


A Lion's Pride

by pitterpatterpot



Series: Throne Family [1]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Original Character(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2019-08-10 00:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 142,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitterpatterpot/pseuds/pitterpatterpot
Summary: (**WARNING! KINGDOM OF ASH SPOILERS!**)'Aedion is my pride.'The war is over. Finally, over. Now all that's left is to regroup, and rebuild. And maybe, as Terrasen rebuilds, Gavriel can come closer to his pride. His family. His son.Maybe their whole family, their court, can rebuild the pieces and come together once again.This will focus on Aedion and his relationship with Gavriel and other characters. A part of the 'Throne Family' series. Other works in series will focus on other characters and their relationships.All characters and places belong rightfully to Sarah J. Mass.





	1. Fevers, Words, Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains 3 short stories, or one shots. Focuses mainly on Aedion and Gavriel.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~~~

1.

 

Is there anything better, or worse, than standing next to his son?

 

“Keep your form strong!” Aedion snaps to the guards in training, running an eye over them all.

 

A wave of pride flows through Gavriel at the way his sons back stays straight, his eyes, his mothers eyes, scan over the training men with precision that he scarcely sees in men ten times his age. His son, who has fought in battles that are written down in history. His son, who is spoken of over campfires. His son, Aedion, the Wolf of the North, who has done more than most warriors ever have. 

 

His son, who left over the wall and dragged his bloodied body to a healer so that his throat and chest could be mended before he passed away.

 

He still hears Aedion’s screams, the scar on his neck and collarbones itching with the memory and his sons frantic begging. They haven’t talked about Gavriel’s sacrifice or Aedion’s tears since. 

 

Stifling a yawn, Aedion winces at the sun, stance breaking for a single moment.

 

“Tired?” It’s strange, how there’s a twinge of fear when trying to interact with Aedion.

 

A single wrong step, and it could ruin _everything_. Centuries of fighting through battlefields, and yet this terrifies him. 

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Aedion crosses his arms, squinting against the glare of the setting sun.

 

Running his eyes over Aedion, Gavriel takes in the unfocused glaze filling eyes, his golden skin lacklustre of colour. This isn’t the first time Gavriel has noticed Aedion like this, yet everyone seems to look right past it. It isn’t surprising considering what a remarkable liar Aedion is, a trait that helps trick both enemies and allies. 

Yet Gavriel notices, most likely because of how many moments he takes to study his son. It took awhile to notice the signs of fatigue in Aedion, the details almost unnoticeable but there. He’s sure that Aelin notices, catching the queen give her cousin concerned glances from time to time, yet she says nothing, all of them struggling with their own ferocious demons.

Should Gavriel say something? It is obvious that Aedion’s growing increasingly tired…

 

“Did something keep you awake?” They all have the nightmares. 

 

Aedion’s eyes flick to him for a brief second before looking away. “Nothing in particular.”

 

They stand in silence, watching the drills.

 

“You seem tired. You can leave early.”

 

He doesn’t add the suggestion of a nap, or retiring early for the night. 

 

“I’m fine,” the reply has an underlining of irritation threaded through it.

 

Gavriel doesn’t push again.

 

~~~

 

“Any reason why you called me in here?” Aedion asks his cousin, sprawled across her bedrooms couch. “Besides to get drunk?”

 

Smirking, Aelin hands him a glass filled with scotch. “If I wanted to get wasted with you I’d follow you to a piss-poor bar.”

 

Aedion snorts, taking the glass. “Right, because you don’t love cheating at cards in those places.”

 

“True,” Aelin shoves his legs out of the way, collapsing on the couch herself, taking a gulp of her drink. “I need you to go into Rosamel with Gavriel.”

 

That causes a heavy pause, Aelin turning to stare at her cousin head on, unflinching. Narrowing his own eyes Aedion refuses to look away, internally snarling at the challenge being presented to him.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I need you to.”

 

“That’s not an answer.”

 

“I need you,” Aelin leans forward, “to go meet an assassin friend of mine to collect a file of information for me. I don’t know when they’ll arrive; I just know where you need to meet them. If they don’t arrive in a week, or two, if the weather caused delays, then you can come back.”

 

“And what,” Aedion meets her head on, leaning towards her, “will that file of information contain?”

 

“Personal information,” Aelin raises a brow. “Or maybe you’d like to know, and I’ll then have an excuse to poke into _your_ personal life?”

 

“Why?”

 

Aelin swirls her wine in her glass before settling a gentle look on her friend, cousin, brother. “Aedion, I need you to do this for me. Please.”

 

That unusual plea makes Aedion stop, gaping at his cousin, before softening by a fraction. “Alright, fine.”

 

Aelin grins the same shit-eating grin she wore when they were younger and Aedion agreed to join her tea-parties, unaware that wearing dresses and make-up was a part of the agreement (he didn’t dislike it completely, but he’ll never let her know that).

He regrets this decision already. 

 

~~~

 

They leave in silence, walking away from the rebuilding city towards the wilderness. They discuss the route, Gavriel allowing Aedion to lay out the directions they’ll be taking. 

 

“We can cut straight through the forest,” Aedion mentions once they near the thick canopy of trees. “Ever since magic was released there have been reports of… slumbering creatures awakening. The Little Folk should give us clear passage, but we’ll still have to keep our eyes open.”

 

“What makes you think the Little Folk will do that?” Gavriel assesses the forest, more than aware of what may lurk in there.

 

“They’ve always given me clear passage, ever since I was a child,” Aedion strolls forward, highly aware of Gavriel’s eyes following him. “And now that we know of their love for Aelin it’s likely that they’ll extend the same courtesy to her blood-sworn.” 

 

“Did-“ Gavriel clears his throat, the trees starting to provide shade from the sun. “Did you spend time in the forests, as a child?”

 

“Enough to know my way around,” Aedion sighs inaudibly, relenting. “I did. As a part of my training and after the war broke out.”

 

Surprised at the answer, Gavriel appraises Aedion. “What did your training in the forests involve? Hunting?”

 

“Basically,” Aedion avoids eye contact. “That among other things.”

 

“Could you tell me about it?” Gavriel asks this softly, apprehensively.

 

Sucking in a breath, Aedion tips his head up for a brief moment. “They left me in the forest for a week, where I hunted and gathered for myself.”

 

“This was after the first signs of war?”

 

“Before.”

 

Something blanks in Gavriel’s head, the warrior stopping in his tracks, causing Aedion to pause a few steps in front of him. “You were thirteen when the war broke out. How old were you when they left you out here?”

 

“Ten, turning eleven,” jaw clenching, Aedion turns his head away when Gavriel tries to catch his eyes. 

 

“They left you,” Gavriel’s hand tremble by his sides, “in the forest, this forest, by yourself even though the Little Folk and other creatures roamed through this wilderness?”

 

“Of course,” Aedion shifts his weight, fidgeting. “I had to learn how to protect myself and survive on my own.”

 

“You were eleven. _You don’t leave eleven year old children in the forest,”_ Gavriel snarls the last part, Aedion whirling around on him immediately.

 

“You don’t leave children period!” Aedion snarls right back, stomping a step forward. “But being left in a forest isn’t as bad as fighting on a battle field when you are _thirteen years old_. Compared to that it was _nothing.”_

 

Something shudders through Gavriel’s chest, a painful swell of emotions that threatens to engulf him. Instead of crumbling down he nods at Aedion, swallowing thickly as he watches Aedion walk away, slowly following his son. 

 

~~~

 

Thirteen years old. A thirteen year old child fighting on the battle field, watching all those he loved being cut down in front of him, witnessing carnage that grown adults are unable to handle. Who was there for him? Who was there for that small child, suffering through shock once the battle was over? Did he even have time to process his feelings? To rest? Most likely not, with how Adarlan stormed the country as soon as magic had fallen.

 

Gods above, he was thirteen years old. Gavriel still dreams of battles he fought only a few decades ago, so what does Aedion dream of? The nightmares of a child’s scared memory?

 

Contemplating this, he gazes at a sleeping Aedion’s body, the fire flickering between them. He resists the urge to reach out and brush his hair away from his eyes, his son’s scares flickering against his golden skin in the firelight as he mumbles words every few minutes, sleep-talking. It brings back a past vision of a beach in Wendlyn, where he sat under the moon with a beautiful woman, a fire warming them both as they sat close together. They never met in the palace or city where people would recognise them, where word could get back to Meave. They never planned to meet; it was a chance encounter during a festival, the woman alluring him into dancing, her bravery fierce and bright.

 

Like her son. So full of pride, bravery, determination and persistence. She never gave up or bowed to others, no matter how much her own family had shunned her. And Aedion, her legacy, shines with those traits himself. It makes Gavriel’s heart ache at how similar the two are even though Aedion has mentioned before that his memory of his mother is sparse. 

It was abrupt, Aedion biting out the fact when Gavriel made a comment on how his mother also enjoyed fresh golden fruit. He’s realised by now that the littlest of things, the smallest mention of words or actions, can set Aedion off. Can release an explosion of pent up emotions before they are immediately shut off again, choked back and sealed away in a freighting display of control. At least Aedion is trying, trying to speak without letting the whole damn burst.

 

Sighing, Gavriel stares up at the sky, aware of every little sound and shift in the canopy surrounding them. He’ll sleep when they’re safe, when they’re away from the creatures staring at them through the trees. 

 

~~~

 

It doesn’t take long, Aedion knowing many surprising paths through the forest that don’t appear on any maps. It does make Gavriel smile slightly at the way the Little Folk leave him crowns made out of budding flowers multiple shades of blue, pink and purple. Always accepting, Aedion takes and wears the gifts, continuing on the path with no trouble. It makes Gavriel wonder if his son has some kind of bargain with the Little Folk, wondering how he has greatly endeared himself to them. 

 

“I know an inn we can stay at,” Aedion brakes Gavriel from his thoughts, leisurely strolling down the path they’ve decided to follow. “They always have a room ready for me, and would be willing to give one more. Once there we can spend the night, then tomorrow night we can get the file and head back.”

 

“Alright,” Gavriel nods, seeing no flaw in the plan. “Did you visit Rosamel often?”

 

“Often enough,” Aedion answers warily, slowing for a moment to stare out at the vast expanse of land to their left, the ground covered in thick grass with only a few spots left bare with earth.

 

Noticing his glance, the shadow in his eyes, Gavriel turns towards the space himself. It isn’t hard to recognise the signs of a past battle field. “What happened here?”

 

“Just another battle,” Aedion shrugs, as if the weight of the words mean nothing, as if they’re just a common comment.

 

It strikes Gavriel that to his son it is. To Aedion almost every place in Terrasen would bare some kind of reminder of a battle. The knowledge keeps creeping up on Gavriel, causing his chest to tighten. His son, and many people, pale when they gaze upon the scarred land in front of Orynth’s walls. For long-term soldiers that survived, those memories etched in the earth may last their lifetime and longer.

 

“How old were you?”

 

“Fifteen,” Aedion bites back a growl, shoulders tightening.

 

“How badly injured were you?” Gavriel can’t help but ask.

 

Smirking, Aedion grabs the edge of his shirt and yanks it up, revealing the jagged scar he once showed to Aelin. “Nearly got gutted like a fish. Killed him, and was then dragged to the inn where the keeper got a person to help stitch me up. That’s how I know the inn keeper and her husband.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel nods, clearing his throat, delicately hiding his shock. 

 

A fifteen year old boy nearly being gutted alive. Gods.

 

He was so young.

 

It shouldn’t surprise him; plenty of young males join the army to take the risk. But for some reason the notion of _Aedion_ being the one on that field makes the age seem pointless and small. He was too young. For the first time, Gavriel can see why parents would cry that fifteen is too young, why they would panic as their children charged to enter the ranks.

 

Raising their hoods, they edge around the outskirts of Rosamel, avoiding many humans and few fea that could easily recognise Aedion, and perhaps even Gavriel. Showing his father the way to the inn, Aedion leads Gavriel through the back door. Lowering his hood Aedion strides eagerly towards the kitchens, knocking on the door once. 

The urge to protectively drift closer to his son is overwhelming, Gavriel eyeing the woman that hands Aedion room keys with disguised apprehension. The woman is clearly human, a strong stance of determination defining her body, grey hairs the only marking of her old age.

 

“There’s only one room and one bed,” she glances at Gavriel. “I thought it would only be you. We have no other vacancies, but I could try to find something-“

 

“It’s fine,” Aedion smiles gently at her, taking a room key from her hand. “We’ll work something out. The same room as usual?”

 

“Of course,” she pats Aedion’s arm, defence clearly lowered. “I put plenty of spare blankets and pillows in there, so you should be all set. Would you like food to be brought up to you or are you able to come downstairs?”

 

The woman clearly knows that they may need secrecy. It raises the question of who else she hosts in this inn. 

 

“We’ll come down if we need anything,” Aedion reassures her. “Have a nice night.”

 

“The same to you,” she smiles before ducking back into the kitchen. 

 

They swiftly move up the stairs until they reach the top level. Aedion leads Gavriel to a trap-door in the ceiling, opening it to reveal a fold out ladder leading to the attic. 

 

“Come on,” Aedion grunts, pulling himself up. 

 

The attic room is surprisingly spacious for, well, an attic. A large skylight covers most of the roof. A patchwork-quilt covered bed sits in the corner of the room, a couch pressed up against the opposite wall. A gas-lamp sits on the small table resting between the two pieces of furniture, offering light in the room.

 

“You take the bed,” Aedion picks up two blankets set on the edge of the bed, collapsing on the couch and throwing them over his body and staring through the sky-light at the stars.

 

Hesitating, Gavriel eyes Aedion’s still fully dressed form, his sons boot-clad feet spilling over the edge of the couch. He can’t decide if it’s worth arguing about, his sons gaze determinedly set away from him. 

He’ll make Aedion take the bed the next night; for now he’ll avoid the argument. 

Biting back a groan, he sinks into the soft mattress of the bed, unlacing his shoes and removing his jacket. Eyeing Aedion, he realises that his son hasn’t removed any of his weapons, or any articles of clothing.

 

“Are you going to remove your shoes?” Gavriel gently probes. “Or weapons?”

 

“No,” Aedion answers blankly, keeping his eyes closed. 

 

“We won’t be attacked, Aedion,” Gavriel gently explains, sitting forwards with his hands clasped. “If we are then we’ll be able to handle it; I’ll be able to handle it. You can relax.”

 

Nothing in his son’s predicament changes, yet a muscle in his jaw flickers as his teeth clench. “I’m _relaxed_ with weapons and clothes.”

 

He’s seen it in soldiers before. It isn’t unusual to find that soldiers after war feel more secure surrounded by weapons or armour, having the constant ability to protect themselves in case anything, _anything_ , happens. It took Gavriel himself years to fight down the instinct to sleep with weapons, to not arm himself even in safe environments. Now he can handle it, being confident that he has the ability to handle himself without weapons or armour, his lion form also helping to give confidence. But Aedion, who is unable to shift and fought for ten years without magic, is most likely wired now to depend solely on his physical abilities. On keeping alert at every possible moment. It makes sense that as a child thrown into war his security blankets would shift from toys and people to fighting gear and swords.

 

“Alright,” Gavriel lies back on the bed, shifting under the covers, noticing how the blankets are lazily thrown over Aedion’s body. “It gets cold by the mountains.”

 

“It does,” Aedion agrees, hands tucking behind his head. 

 

“Do you need another blan-“

 

“I am not a five year old child,” Aedion huffs, shuffling on the couch to get comfortable. “I can keep myself warm; just stay concerned with yourself. I’m used to the temperature, so it doesn’t effect me as much.”

 

Stewing in the silence, Gavriel stares through the sky-light at the moon and stars, soon drifting off to sleep.

 

~~~

 

Light easily filters in through windows above them, Gavriel waking as soon as the sun begins to rise, instincts perking up at the early morning light. Turning to his side he notices Aedion, his son, facing Gavriel, his legs curled up so they don’t hang off the edge of the couch. One blanket has fallen to the floor, the other bunched up around his torso, his son’s hands tangled in the soft blanket and clutching it to his chest. It’s strange to see Aedion’s face clear of creases caused by stress, his brows and eyes no longer tense, mouth parted slightly to breath in and out. 

 

It makes him appear so much younger, the age piled onto him from years of hardship melting away until nothing but a dreaming young man is left, the raging storm that is Aedion calmed and soothed. 

Until his face creases again, his usually muttering starting as he shifts around on the couch, hands beginning to tug and pull at the blanket instead of gently holding it. At first Gavriel simply watches, until Aedion’s sounds become distinctly distressed, grunts and, even though he knows Aedion would deny it, whimpers of fear. 

Swinging his legs out of bed he cautiously approaches Aedion’s fidgeting body, placing one hand far out in front of himself.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel keeps his voice low and soothing. “Aedion. Wake up-“

 

As soon as his fingers graze Aedion’s shoulders his son springs into action, a knife suddenly flying towards Gavriel’s throat. Grabbing the wrist containing the knife Gavriel pulls at the arm, throwing Aedion onto the floor with his own momentum. He swings around so he kneels above Aedion, his sons arm pinned beneath his body with his other hand pinned above his head. Gavriel pressing his hand against Aedion’s upper back, near his neck, to keep him pinned. 

It shocks them both, the way they immediately flew into familiar patterns. Gavriel debates letting Aedion up, but waits until his son looses the panic look in his eyes, his erratic breathing evening out. It doesn’t happen.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel smooths his voice back into a gentle baritone, clearly pronouncing each word. “You are alright. It was just a nightmare. Nothing is wrong now. Let go of the knife and I will let you up.”

 

Still struggling for breath, sucking the air in through gasps, Aedion keeps his trembling fingers curled tightly around the knife. Feeling his son’s pulse through his shirt Gavriel swears under his breath, finally realising what’s happening. 

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel can’t let him up, not when he could attack, so instead begins to slowly rub his back with his free hand, “I need you to breath. When I move my hand up, breath in, when I move my hand down your back, breath out. In…,” his hand drifts up, “out…” he strokes back down again. “In… Out… Good, Aedion. Just keep breathing.”

 

He knows not to hug his son, no matter how much his instincts scream at him to protect his panicked child. Instead, he watches how his son’s breathing evens out, even if the tension in his body remains.

 

“I’m fine,” Aedion croaks out after he regains his breath. “Let me up.”

 

Slowly standing, Gavriel warily watches as his son moves to his feet. Surprisingly steady, Aedion shows no sign of anything affecting him, as composed as ever. 

 

“I’m going to bathe,” Aedion sheaths the knife, turning to stride towards the trap door. 

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel changes his voice back to the firm command he uses for soldiers, watching Aedion stop on instinct. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

 

A tense silence crackles between them, Gavriel immediately regretting his words yet keeping his stance firm.

 

“Why?” Aedion asks softly, face unreadable. 

 

Swallowing, Gavriel decides to answer. “If someone surprises you then you could attack them.”

 

A coarse laugh jumps out of Aedion’s throat. “I’ve been doing this all since I was a child. You think I haven’t had nightmares before? I know how to restrain myself.”

 

With that he leaves the room, Gavriel left in the silence.

 

~~~

 

“I’m going downstairs to eat,” Aedion mentions to Gavriel, drying his damp hair. “Do you want to come?”

 

“Of course,” Gavriel stands from the bed, smiling gently. 

 

There has been more and more offers lately, more and more walls falling. After the battle it was inevitable, but something in Gavriel’s chest still losses in relief. 

 

Aedion watches Gavriel as they walk downstairs, wondering whether or not the invitation was a good idea. He knocks on the kitchen door, smiling as its opened by Amalia and they’re rushed into a small dining room, food already set out on the table and ready. 

 

“Make sure he eats,” Amalia nods to Aedion, speaking to Gavriel with a motherly kind of sternest.

 

Raising his brow Gavriel nods, yet Aedion scowls at Amalia. “I eat.”

 

Snorting, Amalia tucks a grey strand of hair behind her ear. “What kind of a fool do you think I am? Just try to eat as much as you can without getting sick.”

 

With that she leaves the room, Aedion glaring daggers into her back the entire way. They sit at the table, Aedion watching as Gavriel neatly piles his plate full of food before grabbing a few pieces of fruit, bread and crackers himself. 

As Gavriel consumes his own food he looks over to Aedion, watching his son robotically eat his food. What had the kind woman meant, about ensuring that Aedion eats plenty of food? At this point he doesn’t know what else to do besides ask his son.

 

“Is that enough food for you?”

 

Pausing, a slice of apple raised to his mouth, Aedion contemplates his answer. On one hand he has told his father more about himself then he ever thought he would these past few months, in the palace and on this trip. However, there’s something about being alone with Gavriel, without anyone else there, that just provokes some part of Aedion to actually _speak_. To lean towards the male who is so clearly his father, sharing his scent, strength and smile, and trust the male to protect him.

Stupid fea instincts.

 

“It’s enough,” Aedion blows out a long breath before crunching on the apple slice. “I don’t like eating too much, or heavy foods, because it can make me feel sick later.”

 

“How?” Gavriel tries to push the conversation along, concern creeping up. “Are you ill?”

 

“The nightmares,” Aedion grounds out the information, his fist clenching next to his leg. “If I eat too much, then have a nightmare, I become sick and it comes back up again.”

 

What the hell is he saying? He shouldn’t be telling the gods damn Lion this. What kind of a warrior must he seem like to his father now?

 

“The nightmares make you sick,” Gavriel blinks slowly, the action more feline than humanoid. “Does it happen often?”

 

“No,” Aedion sighs through his nose. “Just since the last battle.”

 

So many people are suffering the same consequences. 

 

“Aedion, you still need to eat,” Gavriel lays a hand flat on the table, something in his stomach churning. “Have you taken medication to keep the sickness at bay?”

 

“Most medicines that withhold nausea also keep me asleep deeply to the point I don’t wake,” Aedion stabs at another piece of fruit. 

 

Asleep, so he can’t wait up from the sickening nightmares. The contradiction of the situation makes Gavriel wince.

 

“I eat enough to stay healthy,” Aedion brakes Gavriel out of his thoughts. “I’m not malnourished, or hungry. I just don’t eat more than I need to.”

 

Biting the inside of his cheek Gavriel resists the urge to berate Aedion on that fact, to remind him that young demi-fea _should_ be eating more than the minimum. They need that extra energy, that extra bit of food to help them in case they run out of reserves. Instead, he stays quiet, and watches Aedion eat the amount of food a human male would eat, not what a demi-fea would eat.

Gods, how is Aedion still functioning?

After that, Gavriel struggles to find a new topic of conversation. He does have a list of things that he wonders about his son, but how to start on it?

 

“What are your interests?” Gavriel asks, trying to think of a topic. “Aelin plays piano; do play any instruments?”

 

“Fiddle, drums, flute, panpipe and a few others,” Aedion lists much to Gavriel’s shock. “They were mainly for party tricks, but when you’re stuck in one spot while a blizzard rages on your find you can pick up a few skills from other soldiers.”

 

Pride flares in Gavriel’s chest again at how Aedion learnt through adversity. “I’ve never heard you play before.”

 

Aedion shrugs lazily, poking idly at his food. “The war was still raging on, and we’re still rebuilding Terrasen. There’s no point in wasting time to practice instruments; it helps no one. My time is better used elsewhere.”

 

It’s an expected response. Dorian mentioned to the others multiple times that Aedion would throw parties, only for Chaol to dismiss this image of Aedion by stating that he used them as a distraction for work and secret meetings.

 

“You could take some time out during the day to practice,” Gavriel muses. “If you’re handling too much than taking a break even now could do you some good.”

 

“I fought for ten years,” Aedion’s voice softens, eyes staring unfocused at his plate. “Ten years to keep this country from falling apart. I can’t stop now; not when I’m so close. So close to everything _finally_ being fixed.”

 

There’s no lie in that, in the pain and desperation lacing his voice. That weight of forced age is showing again, the twenty-four year old male is being taken over by a scarred warrior who’s seen too much and done too many things. Wrinkles appear between his brows again, mouth slowly setting into a deep groove. Ten years of trying his hardest, of making so many sacrifices, and now that he’s finally nearing the end his desperation is setting in. Everything’s being built up, hope restored to the fullest, but now that there’s hope there’s so much more to lose.

 

“You fought for ten years,” Gavriel agrees, nodding as he links his hands, “you made sacrifices and decisions most people three times your age would struggle to make. But a large difference from then to now is that you have support. Yes, Aelin will need your help in managing the people and the military, but you are now not the primary support for this country. You don’t need to let everything go at once, but you also need to remember that there are some things you don’t need to shoulder anymore. The court is stable, the lords and ladies of the lands are reinstated and work is being given out to whom will handle what best. You can rest, Aedion. You don’t need to go to every meeting, worry about every problem anymore.”

 

He allows the words to sink in, knowing that this most likely isn’t the first time his son has heard something like this. For the past ten years his son was spread thin between handling both the rebuilding of Terrasen, Adarlan, the rebels, people and armies. It will be some time before Aedion stops attending every meeting, stops demanding information on every situation.

It’s driven Aelin crazy more than once, determining that her cousin is a ‘workaholic asshole of an idiot.’

But when you’ve been fighting since you were thirteen, betrayed by multiple people at every turn, losing and being lied to by your cousin more than once, it makes sense that these kind of things would continue to take effect. 

 

“I’ll rest when things are fixed,” Aedion growls, straightening again.

 

It’ll take time to unravel the strings binding him, but they have that time now that the war is over, and Gavriel plans to use it. 

 

~~~

 

“You didn’t have to come,” Aedion mentions to Gavriel, absentmindedly flicking through the pages of a book.

 

Gavriel takes in the small bookshop, the shop filled with both new and old books, an entire shelf dedicated to free books that the shop no longer wants. It was a surprise when Aedion mentioned going to the store, yet the way the old man at the counter nodded to Aedion, and the way Aedion knew exactly where the free books shelf was, indicates that it’s not his first time in the book-filled room. 

 

“Staying inside the inn for the entire day isn’t exactly the most stimulating thing in the world,” Gavriel smiles slightly, examining books himself. “I didn’t know you liked to read.”

 

“Only if I have the time, or can’t work and train,” Aedion hums. “Since we don’t know when Aelin’s assassin friend will be showing up I’ll need something to distract myself.”

 

“What kind of books do you like reading?” Gavriel pulls out a small novel.

 

“Anything, really,” Aedion continues reading the book in his hands. “Whatever I can get my hands on-“

 

“He likes the Dares Laical books,” the old man mentions, reading himself. “He’d come in here and spend hours trying to finish them before he’d have to leave.”

 

“Thank you, Harsel,” Aedion scowls, the resemblance between Aelin and himself stark. “Thank you for your opinion.”

 

“The new book came out,” Harsel taps his desk. “If you want to try reading it in here instead of purchasing it, then do it now before someone else buys it like an actual business-supporting costumer. It’s the last copy.”

 

“You’re wisdom is appreciated,” Aedion drawls, holding up the book in his hand. “I’ll just take this.”

 

“One day you’re actually going to buy something from this shop with money,” Harsel muses, flipping a page, “and when you do I am going to _savour_ it.”

“I’m sure you will,” Aedion rolls his eyes, turning to Gavriel. “Have you found anything?”

 

“Nothing, really,” Gavriel places his book back. “Aelin gave you a large sum of money before we left. You could purchase the book.”

 

Aedion avoids his gaze, shrugging. “It would be a waste of money. I’ll wait until I can red it for free, or,” he sends a glare at Harsel, “until cranky old men stop hiding it inside draws.”

 

Without looking, the male in question raises his hand, one finger raised. Snorting, Aedion turns away, a small grin tugging at his lips. It occurs to Gavriel suddenly that this must be a common place for Aedion to visit.

 

“As long as you’re sure,” Gavriel already has the authors name committed to memory to tell Aelin later.

 

The library could use a few more books. And if a few Dares Laical books show up, and Aelin recommend them, then who is Aedion to refuse?

Or Gavriel could get the book himself, then give it to Aedion for a holiday gift, or perhaps his birthday-

 

When is Aedion’s birthday?

 

Blinking, Gavriel tries to remember. If he thinks back, and adds the months, then Aedion should have been born a little earlier in the year, around winter. But his mother was ill, so what if the pregnancy was short? What if Gavriel’s memories are getting muddled, and he has it all wrong? After all, the concept of time was fluid for Gavriel back then. Even more with Aedion’s mother, which all else seemed irrelevant when compared against her. The days melted away when in her company, time and placing loosing their meaning.

 

“When is your birthday?” He may as well ask Aedion himself, instead of Aelin. 

 

Taken back, Aedion stares at Gavriel for a moment before turning away. “I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t know?” Gavriel tries to ignore Harsel sitting at the desk. 

 

“When my mother died that information died with her,” Aedion pockets the small book, heading towards the door. “We don’t know the exact date, just the period of the year it was thanks to her letters to Evalin.” 

 

“Are you alright with that?” Gavriel murmurs quietly, stepping closer.

 

Aedion repels away from the soft and searching look in his father’s eyes, nearly fidgeting under the pressure of that look. “That’s irrelevant. I’ll go wait outside.”

 

The small bell on the door rings, the only sound to be heard as Aedion slips outside.

 

“Here,” Harsel gestures to Gavriel, plucking a book out from under the desk. “Take this.”

 

Eyeing the slim book, Gavriel takes it, opening to the first page. He nearly drops it with what he reads. 

 

“I’m not an idiot,” Harsel grins dryly. “I can see the resemblance between you two,” he braces his arms on the desk, leaning forward. “That boy has been through hell. Anyone in this continent could tell you that. So, as a father of a soldier that’s also come home, I’ll offer you this advice; take it slow. Take it slow, watch him closely, listen to what he says. I can see that you’ve already done that by the way you move around him. But I can also see that you have no idea what the hell to do now.”

 

Some inner part of Gavriel flinches at that, yet he keeps his outside appearance firm. “And your idea of helping is to give me this book?”

 

“It has some good advice,” Harsel shrugs. “That boy was raised in a war camp, even before the actual war started. No one was every interested in his opinion and likes unless in had something to do with war and training.”

 

“How do you know all this?”

 

“I stitched him back up after he dragged his body into my wife’s inn, trailing blood all the way,” Harsel smiles an empty grin. “He was small, for his age. Stayed awake the entire time I stitched him up, my wife holding him down. Later, two other soldiers came and retrieved him. Considering the way they handled him it isn’t hard to guess that the boy didn’t only face hell on the battle field.”

 

How many soldiers, grown adults, has Gavriel punished in war camps before? How many did Lorcan, or Rowan, punish for speaking out of turn? If a grown male decides to join then he is prepared for those consequences, but a young male who had no choice? A child?

It would be a place of nightmares and swallowed words, fear overshadowed by fake anger and bravado to match those around him.

Gods damn it all.

He should have been there.

 

“Read the book,” Harsel reaches out, tapping the cover. “It has some good suggestions on how to make him feel safe to share his feelings. How to validate them. And don’t worry; I won’t tell him I gave it to you.”

 

Nodding, Gavriel gives his thanks before exiting.

 

“Let’s head back to the inn,” Aedion suggests, tapping his own book against his leg. “There’s not much else to do but wait.”

 

“Alright,” Gavriel nods, highly aware of the two books in his hand.

 

~~~

 

“You can take the bed tonight,” Gavriel sits on the couch, ready to lay down, stomach filled with dinner.

 

He stays casual, watching Aedion stiffen half-way through the trap door. His son crawls the rest of the way through, slowly closing the door behind him. Silently, he prowls to stand between the bed and the couch.

 

“You take the bed,” Aedion nods back, voice gruff. 

 

Gavriel thinks back, keeping his books tucked against his side. “Is there a reason you don’t want to take the bed? I’d be happy to move there if there is.”

 

Aedion stares down at him, gaze unwavering. Gavriel meets him head on, staring straight into his eyes. Gavriel’s created a situation where Aedion can either say yes, and explain, or say no, and take the bed, which he obviously does not want to do. Or he could say nothing and still keep the couch, knowing it’ll raise questions for Gavriel.

 

Instead, Aedion straightens, becoming strangely calm. “Yes, there is a private reason. So, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to sleep on the couch.”

 

“Alright,” Gavriel nods, walking over to the bed, watching Aedion sit and pull out a book. “Thank you for telling me.”

 

Positive encouragement for the truth. A good thing that someone who has lied their entire life needs.

 

“What’s the book about?” Gavriel asks.

 

“Some woman going on an adventure to find things,” Aedion sighs, flipping the page. “Honestly, it’s just dry.” 

 

How does Gavriel mention that he has the book Aedion wanted? “I received that Laical book for Aelin for the castle’s libraries collection.”

 

Well. That wasn’t the most graceful thing he’s done in his life.

 

He wonders if Aedion will believe the lie… by the look on his face, he doesn’t. It’s a strange mix of confusion, disbelief, bewilderment and anger. 

 

“Aelin doesn’t like those books,” Aedion’s voice is a strange, tight tone. “And the library doesn’t hold the collection. Why did you buy it?” 

 

The looks on his face has morphed to complete and utter disbelief. It makes something in Gavriel’s chest squeeze, the way Aedion momentarily shows that child-like flash of confusion. 

 

“Because I wanted to,” Gavriel decides on the exact truth. “I knew you wanted the book, and I wanted to get it for you.”

 

The bewilderment is still there. “I don’t need it. It isn’t a necessity.”

 

“It doesn’t need to be,” Gavriel walks over, holding out the book. “Here, something less dry to read,” he offers a small, yet genuine, smile.

 

Slowly, Aedion takes the book, confusion still lightly lining his face. “What do you want in return for it?”

 

“Nothing,” Gavriel shrugs, sitting back on the bed.

 

“Liar,” Aedion’s face hardens. “Nobody gives something away without a price.”

 

“When was the last time you received something without a price?” Gavriel asks gently. “Before the war?”

 

Aedion barks a laugh, a vicious glint edging his eyes. “Before the war I was a charity case trained to be a weapon for Aelin and the kingdom. Nothing I have ever received was free; it’s always ended up having price.”

 

Gavriel swallows thickly. He knows the punishment of prices well. He had honour, but the price for it was eternal servitude, taking orders that he never would have done himself. 

 

“They trained you to become Aelin’s weapon?” Gavriel inquires, immediately catching on the words.

 

“Evalin knew that a war was coming,” Aedion sighs. “They also knew I was a demi-fea. From the moment I was five my only lessons consisted of discipline, warfare, training, geography and a few basic classes.”

 

“What about art and music?” Gavriel quickly asks, focusing on their past conversation. “You learnt to play instruments in difficult situations while under pressure; did you ever have basic lessons at the castle?”

 

“They said it was useless,” Aedion’s voice lowers, “and it is. It held no benefit and I learnt as much as I needed to draw attention away from myself and cause distractions at parties.”

 

“You could build your skill,” Gavriel gently suggests. “I’ve never heard you play before.”

 

“There’s no need for me to play anymore,” Aedion closes his eyes, head resting back. “I have other things to do with my time.”

 

“Everyone needs a hobby,” Gavriel offers quietly. “I enjoy walks, exercises, reading… Everyone needs something to do with their free time.”

 

“I don’t have free time,” Aedion’s brows draw together. “I need to concentrate on the rebuilding of Terrasen.”

 

Gavriel can practically hear Aelin screaming ‘workaholic asshole.’ “Aedion, you need to do something besides work. It’s unhealthy. If you can’t find another physical activity besides training to do, then you could continue on with music, or reading-“

 

Stop,” Aedion sits up, cutting Gavriel off. “Just… Just _stop_. I don’t know what to do, alright? I spent my entire life, even my childhood, training for and fighting war. Learning new techniques, fighting enemies, staying on guard every minute of the day… I can’t just fine something else to do,” Aedion’s voice raises, anger, or perhaps panic, lacing his tone. “Standing by Aelin, protecting her with my life, is what I was raised to do. To serve her and Terrasen. That’s been my entire purpose, and I can’t just drop that.” 

 

They sit in silence, Gavriel’s throat closing up. He knows that Aedion loves Aelin, that Aelin loves her cousin back. But now the question is raised of whether or not it is Aedion’s choice to stand by Aelin. For all they know it could just be an idea that was drilled into Aedion’s head with a horrible ferocity driven by the fear of war. 

He can’t ask Aedion that. If there is one line he should never near, it is the line of Aedion and his loyalty to Aelin. 

 

“You don’t have to,” Gavriel keeps his voice low. “I wouldn’t ask this from you. It took me centuries to find other interests. But even accepting books that you love is a step forward. An achievement.”

 

He can hear Aedion suck in a breath, his son hiding it well. They rest in silence, the only sound the scraping of pages as Aedion reads his new book.

 

~~~

 

Gavriel wakes again, the sun not even beginning to rise. From the couch Aedion mumbles a string of pleas, voice rising and pitching slightly. It’s obvious that it’s another nightmare. Once he realises what’s happening Gavriel prepares to rise out of bed, but a gasp stops him. Aedion’s ragged breathing reaches him, punctuated by a thick swallow before his son shifts on the couch. Keeping still, Gavriel creates the appearance that he is still asleep.

 

~~~

 

Aedion’s eyes are heavy. Not coated with dark rings thanks to the few hours of sleep he achieved, but instead misted over as if lost in a fog. They eat breakfast in silence, Gavriel not probing his son.

He heard what Aedion said in his sleep. He won’t push it; not today.

They go to the meeting point where Aelin’s friend is supposed to arrive, a small lounge room in a tavern not too far from the inn. The small room is closed off to others, Aedion and Gavriel going to wait there before returning to the inn every day.

 

“Did Aelin give any details on what day her friend would arrive?” Gavriel questions, sinking into a chair.

 

“No, she did not,” Aedion punctuates the words with annoyed clarity, scowling at the wall as if Aelin’s standing there herself. 

 

Gavriel sighs, closing his eyes. He hears Aedion sit down on a couch to his right, keeping an ear out for all the taverns patrons talking with just a wall separating the people from them. Their conversations are muffled, but easy to make out. Opening his eyes, Gavriel pulls out his book, ready to read for the duration of their post in the room. He looks up, ready to see Aedion either pacing (something he’s found that Aedion does when restless, no matter how many times someone asks him to calm down and stop) or reading. 

Instead, Aedion’s breathing has evened out, his eyes closed with his head resting back against the couch, large body slumped sideways. 

 

Rising slowly, Gavriel paces over to Aedion, gently removing his jacket and draping it over his son before sitting on the other end of the couch to read his book. 

 

A few hours pass and Gavriel is done with his book, cursing softly at the snow beginning to fall. He turns to Aedion, immediately regretting the decision when he see’s the peaceful look upon Aedion’s face. So relaxed, so young and untroubled. 

But if the snow becomes thicker then they’ll have to trudge through it, and Aedion will be more comfortable on a bed instead of his neck twisted on a couch like it’s snapped.

 

That’s not an image Gavriel needs.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel extends his arm, keeping his body a safe distance from Aedion and squeezing his shoulder. “Aedion, you need to wake up now so we can head back to the inn.”

 

Aedion slowly sits up, rubbing at his eyes, reaction time much too slow. “What’s happening?”

 

Gavriel goes to soothe him, seeing his son begin to sharpen. “Nothing is wrong. We just need to head back to the inn now.”

 

“Alright,” Aedion stands and stretches, eyes still blurry. “Let’s- _fucking hell.”_

 

“What’s wrong?” Gavriel frowns.

 

“It’s snowing,” Aedion hisses, glaring through the window. “Aelin’s contact will be delayed!”

 

The realisation hits Gavriel in the face. They may have to stay up to over a week if the contact doesn’t immediately arrive. Yet for some small reason, Gavriel isn’t bothered by the thought. In the castle it’s so easy for them to miss each other, yet here they can be in close proximities and actually talk.

Perhaps this is all a good thing.

 

~~~

 

“F-Fuck,” Aedion’s teeth chatter hard, throwing off his soaked jacket to the floor.

 

Snow is not a good thing.

 

“Go take a shower,” Gavriel immediately stoops down, scooping up his jacket and glancing at the clumps of snow still stuck to Aedion’s hair, resisting the urge to pat and rub at the golden locks. “It’ll warm you up.”

 

“Right,” Aedion immediately jumps down through the trapdoor, his stomps leading to the bathroom put aside for them. 

 

Sighing, Gavriel places logs of wood in the fire place, preparing to warm up the room. He begins to chuckle; never before has he seen Aedion give such an ungraceful display of actions. His son had slipped on an icy patch of ground and straight into a pile of snow before Gavriel could catch him. He had, however, immediately helped Aedion stand again, quickly brushing as much snow off of him as possible. 

Until Aedion slipped and fell for a second time. Gods, he must be tired to have made such a (literal) slip up. 

Aedion comes back upstairs, and Gavriel frowns when he sees that Aedion is wearing the same clothes. It appears that they were resting in front of a fire, not dripping large puddles anymore, yet obviously still cold if the small shiver of Aedion’s skin is anything to go by. 

 

“Change out of your clothes,” Gavriel demands, instinct kicking in. “They’re still cold.”

 

“I have nothing else,” Aedion yawns, clearly tired yet again. “I didn’t think we’d be here for long.”

 

“Here,” Gavriel grabs the one spare shirt he brought with them, immediately thrusting the shirt towards him. “Change. You need to get warm or you could catch a sickness.”

 

“Fine,” Aedion blows out a breath, quickly changing shirts, throat constricting at suddenly wearing something with his fathers scent.

 

It’s still annoying to know that all fae are able to smell that he is Gavriel’s son, that there is no way to hide that irreversible truth.

 

Gavriel flinches at the number of scars lacing his sons torso. Particularly the one left by that valg prince. Pride does swell, however, once he remembers that it was Aedion who pushed the monster back.

 

Leading his son to the bed, Gavriel silently thanks the lack of complaints and denials. Instead of protesting against the bed Aedion collapses in the sheets, eyes immediately closing as soon as he rests his head.

 

Sighing, Gavriel checks the fire before sitting on the couch, eyeing Aedion’s book. Done with his own reading material, he picks up the new novel, prepared to watch the time pass. 

Every time Aedion turns in his sleep (which happens rarely, the blonde sleeping like the dead) Gavriel stands to rearrange the blankets to cover him properly, shocked that Aedion doesn’t wake. He eventually falls asleep on the couch, still half-awake and alert, prepared to watch out for any threats that may approach his son. 

 

~~~

 

He wakes before Aedion, padding over to fix the blankets before travelling down to the kitchens for a bowl of soup and bread. Coming back upstairs, He places the food on the floor before slowly rousing Aedion awake. His eyes blink open, hazy, slowly sitting up when Gavriel gently urges him to.

 

Aedion yawns widely, rubbing at his eyes. “What are we-“

 

“Eat,” Gavriel holds up a piece of bread dunked in soup, nudging it towards Aedion’s mouth, brooking no room for contradiction. 

 

Narrowing his eyes, Aedion reaches for the bowl and bread. Frowning, Gavriel drifts the bowl and bread away.

 

“Rest and eat,” Gavriel demands, offering the bread again. “You’re exhausted and need food.”

 

Glaring for a few more moments, Aedion finally relents, allowing Gavriel to feed him the bread and soup. It’s… nice, to have someone fuss over him, to tell him to eat and rest and for once to know, just know, that there isn’t some kind of trap hidden behind their words.

Plus, he’s been exhausted, not that he’ll ever admit that to Aelin, or Rowan, or _Gavriel_ of all people.

Yet the bastard somehow knows.

 

“Have you been watching me?” Aedion rasps, voice surprisingly hoarse. 

 

Gavriel pauses for a brief moment before urging him to take another bite of bread. “Of course.”

 

Aedion swallows. “Why?”

 

“Because you’re my son.”

 

There’s so much _truth_ behind that sentence. It’s so transparent, said so simply, with no tricks or lies weaved through its letters. It’s not a bargaining chip, or a threat, or something to lord over Aedion. It’s a simple fact that Gavriel seems to have to trouble repeating, as it’s something that can just be accepted and _cherished_ above all else.

 

“I’m Adarlan’s Whore,” Aedion speaks, strangely disconnected from his own body, the words leaving his mouth before he even thinks them.

 

“And you’re my son,” Gavriel locks eyes with him. “And I couldn’t be prouder of you and all the sacrifices you’ve selflessly made for others.”

 

“I’ve done so many bad things,” he begs himself to stop talking. 

 

“So have I.”

 

“I was young, and I did _so may bad things._ ”

 

He needs to stop, stop before Gavriel finds out. Before every truth he’d wanted to fling in his father’s face escapes him. Gavriel can’t lie and say Aedion isn’t his son. He can’t escape the shame.

 

“I know,” Gavriel’s voice hardens, his hands placing down the food. “That’s not fair. It is not fair that you had to do the work of adults simply because they all chose not to. As a child you were a better person than most of them are now.”

 

His words are running away from him, his foggy head done with keeping them trapped, with analysing them before releasing them. 

 

Tipping his head back against the headboard, Aedion covers his face, shoulders shaking. “I didn’t- I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to do so many horrible things, but I did. _I did them.”_

 

“I know.”

 

“It _hurts_.”

 

“I know.”

 

_“It’s not fair.”_

 

This time Gavriel moves around, wrapping an arm around Aedion’s shoulders, his son tipping forward, still cupping his face in his hands. What if he had known of Aedion’s existence? Would his son avoided suffering, or been thrown right into it? If his mother hadn’t died, than Meave most likely would have discovered his presence and put him through hell. His mother did die, and he went through hell thanks to it. Even if he had taken Aedion far away, being Gavriel’s son would be more than enough of a reason for multiple people to hunt him down.

 

Life has been cruel to his son. Maybe there is no path where he could have ended up as anything else but a warrior. Where he could avoid pain.

 

“I hate it, I hate it, I hate it,” Aedion growls into his hands, anger flailing through the grief. _“None of it is fair._ Why weren’t you there?” A dry, broken laugh leaves Aedion. “And Aelin. She avoided us, Terrasen, _me_ , for ten years,” his eyes meet Gavriel. “She let me think she was dead. She _abandoned me._ She was _free.”_

 

That. That makes more sense. His entire life Aedion had been trained to protect and serve Aelin, ready to put down his life for his sister figure, for the female that he shares such a strong bond with. But Aelin didn’t come for him. Not when Aedion was suffering in the war camps, or on the battlefield. She was in the assassin guild, putting him, as a part of her old life, behind her as if that was possible for her.

Aedion never threw her away, but it became obvious that she could do it to him, not forever but at least for a large period of time. That she could leave him to suffer for ten years. Yes, Aedion played the part of a traitor, but what of before that? Those years when he was still struggling and consumed by grief?

Where was she then? And how could she believe that their bond was that weak?

 

Gavriel swallows, the pieces coming together. Aedion always defends Aelin whenever her abandonment of Terrasen comes up, but not only out of love for her. Aedion would have done the exact same thing, but he would have taken Aelin with him, loving and wishing to flee with her. How can he judge?

 

But Aelin didn’t come for Aedion. So, with nothing to lose, he was left to fight for her country and people, filled with the sorrow of her death.

 

And later, the knowledge that she could leave him in a way he could never leave her.

 

Even if Aelin has fully redeemed herself, even if Aedion looks at her with adoration, it must hurt. Just that past memory that’s never been soothed. The need for assurance that _someone_ would have stated for him.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel says quietly, pulling his son close, “I don’t know that if Aelin had been older, she would have gone to you. I can’t tell you that that is what she would have done, but there is no shame, none, in wishing you had been able to leave. To escape before becoming buried. What Aelin did, what so many people have done, has hurt you. I hurt you. But I swear to you now that I will _try_ , Aedion, to never leave you. I can’t say that I won’t, I do not know the future, but I know that the day I abandon you is the day I fail the one thing in life I need to stand by the most. It may not be perfect, but it is the truth. I hope that is enough.”

 

He holds him, crushing him in his arms as he shudders, as if to keep him from falling apart while his fast breathing stays erratic. All this hurt, all this pain, built up inside Aedion to fester for ten years. Who can he speak to about all of this? A fellow warrior it would make his loyalty and belief in Aelin seem weak. Rowan is Aelin’s mate, and will defend her no matter what, maybe even arguing against Aedion’s feelings on her abandonment. Lysandra, probably. To speak of this to Renn would be hypocrisy.

 

And Gavriel… all those meetings, those training sessions, never left much time for them to talk.

 

Maybe some of it was an excuse, so they wouldn’t have to. 

 

“I’m so tired,” Aedion chokes, shaking his head. “I’m just so, so tired…”

 

“I know you are,” Gavriel closes his eyes, still holding Aedion close. “You can rest now, Aedion. You can rest.”

 

He feels Aedion unravel in his arms, releasing a long breath, hiccups of breaths still streaming through. Holding his son Gavriel waits for the panic to slowly subside, unwilling to release him until he’s ready. Eventually, he realises that Aedion has fallen asleep, slumping slowly into Gavriel’s arm. 

Gently, Gavriel settles Aedion back down onto the bed, fixing the blankets to cover him again. 

 

Hell finds all good people. 

 

~~~

 

The next morning Aedion avoids his eyes, waking slowly before heading down to bathe. It takes all of Gavriel’s willpower not to force his clearly ill son back into bed, instead waiting until Aedion is back upstairs to hover around him again, persisting until his son lays down. 

 

“I’m fine,” Aedion growls, slipping beneath the covers, eyes ringed and red.

 

“You’re not,” Gavriel states, placing another blanket on top of him.

 

Aedion frowns. “I’ll get too hot.”

 

Gavriel takes in the pale state of his son, aware that his clenched jaw is to still teeth, able to see the goosbumps on his body. “Somehow, I don’t think you will.”

 

Deciding not to argue, Aedion allows his body to sinks back into the bed, the weightlessness of not carrying weapons or armour when sleeping a strange sensation. But cracking his eyes open to see Gavriel sitting on the couch, reading and obviously on guard, sends a strange wave of comfort flowing through him. For some reason he doesn’t doubt that anyone who walks into the room uninvited will be at the mercy of the Lion.  

 

He’s seen what his father can do, and, against all odds, it doesn’t scare him. He doesn’t fear punishment for disobedience or mistakes the way he would in the war camps. Some strange part of him just… _trusts_ , that Gavriel will never hurt him the way others have. He still has hesitations, still feels uncertain, but that giant gap is beginning to close as he realises how committed Gavriel, his father, is. 

 

It’s the small things that Gavriel doesn’t have to do, yet does. Like when Aedion woke up to find a jacket draped over his cold body (maybe he wasn’t feeling well before he fell in the snow. Gavriel doesn’t need to know that). Such as when Aedion wakes from his deep slumbers and finds his blankets pulled properly up to his shoulders and under his chin. To find them smoothed out over his body, almost being tucked in.

 

Tucked in. Something he’s never had anyone do for him before. How many times in the past did he watch Aelin and other children get tucked in, wondering what it’s like? 

 

So waking up to find himself in a warm room, covered with blankets instead of the fabrics out of place, is a change of pace that causes his instincts to purr in delight. You can’t blame him; when a fea is weak their first instinct is to be coddled over, to be protected. Usually by a partner, but family members or trusted friends can be just as satisfying. It’s a luxury Aedion has never allowed himself to indulge in before. 

He never asked Gavriel to fix the blankets over his body, or to continuously check the fire in the room to ensure its burning. He’s never told Aedion that he’s done it, or asked for credit. It’s not some ploy to buy or win Aedion’s attention; it’s just something he’s doing.

 

Like when he held Aedion the other night as he broke down, giving the wonderful reason of ‘because you’re my son.’

 

Fuck, Aelin would have a field day with that. 

 

He still doesn’t understand why he did it. He’s gone ten years without speaking of any of that to anyone. Yet something about being cared for by a man who is so clearly his parent, through sight, sound and scent, just unraveled him.

 

And now Gavriel is still waiting on the couch, reading while still alert of any threats that may approach.

 

So Aedion sleeps.

 

~~~

 

Gavriel confines Aedion to bed-rest for another day before he finally has enough, quickly getting dressed and prepared to go outside with Gavriel prowling around him, shooting out comments like ‘it’s snowing’ and ‘too cold right now’ along with ‘you’ll just make it worse before it gets better.’ And let’s not forget Aedion’s favourite order of ‘get back into bed.’

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel’s voice is laced with tension as his son shrugs on a jacket. “Please, just lie down-“

 

“I’m not going outside,” Aedion sighs, ignoring the fact that he has to keep his eyes from slipping closed, his very core shivering. “I’m just going downstairs for some food.”

 

“I can bring it up here.”

 

“I need to stretch my legs,” Aedion rolls his shoulders, heading towards the trap-door. “You can come,” he offers as compensation, though Gavriel is already hot on his heels, following his every step of the way with an assessing eye. 

 

Gavriel seems unsatisfied with the plate of toast and few slices of fruit Aedion serves himself, ready to heap more on. 

 

“Do not do it,” Aedion deadpans, eyes closed as he rests his head in his hands. “I will throw up. If I eat anything more than this right now my stomach will reject it, and it will be _horrifying_.” 

 

Stopping, Gavriel assesses Aedion before deciding to place the food back, slightly alarmed by his green and white complexion. “Are you feeling any better today?”

 

“No,” the truth surprises him, not prepared to say it, “but I needed to stretch my legs.”

 

“Moving could encourage the nausea,” Gavriel’s brows draw together. “After this, we’ll go back upstairs.”

 

Aedion’s so prepared to argue, but a quick hit of vertigo stops him. Everything straightens once Gavriel’s hand clamps down on his shoulder, and he realises that he’s resting his head in his arms on the table, sucking in deep breaths. The soup he previously had churns in his stomach, and it’s all he can do to turn to the side to throw up in the pot of a nearby plant.

 

Amalia will be pissed.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel’s tone is gentle, soothing like the quiet lap of waves against a shoreline, “just sit here for a moment. I’m going to go get you some water, then we can go upstairs.”

 

He’s not sure if he nods or not; the pain in his head in becoming worse. He does know that Gavriel handed him a glass, helping him to drink the strangely sweet concoction before heading back to their room with him.

His head hits the pillow, ending everything.

 

~~~

 

Gavriel’s in a panic.

 

How can he not be, when his son is shivering under blankets, hurling to the side to heave into the bucket Gavriel has left besides him every few minutes?

All he can do is pace around Aedion, tend to the fire and empty said bucket. But to see his son at once flushed and hot yet drained of colour leaves something heaving in his chest. Is this what it feels like for all parents when their children have suddenly fallen ill? A constant tidal wave of emotions such as worry and pain at the inability to fix the thing harming their child? Their cub?

 

Groaning, Aedion turns slightly in bed, at once pushing away the covers and pulling them closer. His body is burning, yet the shivering continues.

 

“Here,” Gavriel murmurs gently, placing a steady hand on Aedion’s back to help him sit up. “Lift your arms.”

 

This is the second time Gavriel has had to help Aedion out of a sweat-drenched shirt and into a clean one. Near delirious, Aedion simply allows Gavriel to do so. The only complaints he has had, in fact, have been when Gavriel tried to remove blankets from the bed and forced medicine down Aedion’s throat.

 

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so frantic, but what else was he to do?

 

“There,” Gavriel helps Aedion lie back down on the bed, the latter asleep before he even gets that far. 

 

“Gods, Aedion,” Gavriel runs an assessing eye over his son, weary at the way Aedion draws in heavy, rattling breaths, “How ill are you?”

 

~~~

 

In the end, it’s the tiny sound that’s the answer. Aedion has been sleeping fitfully since the fever fully took place, Gavriel barely sleeping himself, so afraid his son will not turn quick enough to empty his stomach and will choke to death. Or that he would burn up during the night, his fever becoming too overwhelming for him. 

But the nightmares have been at bay.

 

Until the second night in, where Gavriel wakes again to the sounds of Aedion’s frantic mumbling and pleading. It’s impossible to understand, but the reek of fear is there. Gavriel debates the use of waking Aedion up. In his state he could just fall right back into a fitful sleep, or not be comfortable enough to sleep at all. 

 

He regrets debating it, though, when he hears Aedion gasp.

 

And hiccup.

 

That small, jolt of a sound piercing the room.

 

It’s so different to the angry tears Aedion unleashed the other night. Those were an inferno, a flood, of anger. Of bottled up hurt raging forth thanks to the fever setting in. 

 

That hiccup, was a small scared sound of tears. Had such a hopelessness to it, the way someone would hiccup when they try to suck in air through the tears, too desperate to try anything else. 

 

It was such a small, hopeless, scared sound.

 

One Gavriel has never heard from his son before. Not even when he screamed at Gavriel to live, to not leave him, shouting that he was a bastard for going on the other side of those gates.

 

Another hiccup punctuates the room, the fire still smouldering, illuminating the room in a soft light. The sound would have been absorbed by the atmosphere if not for the way it was such a sign of distress.

 

One his son had never released before.

 

On his feet in an instant, Gavriel pads over to Aedion, quickly taking him in. Clearly eyes, completely fogged over by exhaustion and sickness, blink and squint at him.

 

“Sorry,” Aedion breathes quietly.

 

For a moment, as they stare at each other, the word fills the presence of the room. It hovers in the air, stretching between them as it slowly settles and dissipates.

 

Then Gavriel collapses to his knees next to the bed.

 

Aedion starts slightly, but blinks in confusion at Gavriel. Shaking his head and swallowing, Gavriel brushes the sweaty hair away from Aedion’s face before pressing his forehead against his sons. He breathes in Aedion’s scent, feeling the burning heat of his skin, using one hand to keep gently carding through Aedion’s hair to keep in back before pulling back again.

 

Another hiccup. Of surprise and sorrow.

 

Gavriel shushes him, pausing in stroking his hair to rubbing gently at his temple. “What’s wrong, Aedion? Nightmare?”

 

Aedion closes his eyes, leaning in to the soothing touches to his face, nearly falling asleep thanks to the actions. “Yes,” his words are nearly incoherent. “Loud. Hurts.”

 

“A nightmare and your head hurts,” Gavriel pulls back, frowning at the way Aedion squeezes his eyes shut and furrows his brow.

 

He moves to gently trace the wrinkles, rubbing them away. Nothing worked better for him, or does work better for him. Perhaps Aedion will be similar.

 

“Why?” Aedion croaks after a moment. “What are you doing?”

 

Pausing, Gavriel removes his hand. “Was that making it worse?”

 

“No,” Aedion draws in a ragged breath, tipping his head towards Gavriel’s hand. “Better.”

 

“Then that’s why I’m doing it,” Gavriel continues his actions, alternating between rubbing his temple and tracing his brows to patting Aedion’s hair.

 

“I’m an adult,” Aedion breaths out the words. “So why?”

 

Ah. “Because you’re my son and your sick and delirious and need comfort. Aedion? Can you repeat what I just said?”

 

Gavriel raises his brow at the way Aedion obviously struggles to catch his words, his bleary eyes hazing over even further.

 

“It’s alright, Aedion,” Gavriel murmurs, stroking his brows and temple, pressing his lips to Aedion’s forehead for barely a second. “Just close your eyes.”

 

Aedion does so. After a short while, when his breathing evens out, it becomes obvious to Gavriel that his son has fallen asleep. Yet he continues, kneeling next to the bed and taking in every detail of his sons face.

Who knows when he’ll get a chance like this again.

He came so close, so gods damn close to leaving him. 

Now they can’t waste time. Not a single drop of it.

 

~~~

 

“-told me.”

 

“Ngh?” Aedion slowly blinks his eyes open.

“You should have told me,” Gavriel frowns, sitting next to the bed in a chair, gently using a damn cloth to cool Aedion’s forehead. “I had no idea you were feeling so ill.”

 

It takes a moment for Aedion to blink awake, groggy and exhausted. The pounding in his head hasn’t disappeared, but has gone down some for some strange reason.

 

“It’s usually fine,” Aedion mumbles, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t know why it’s all hit me so suddenly.”

 

“Whether you realise it or not, your body is most likely beginning to relax and shut down,” Gavriel walks over to a pitcher, pouring a glass of water. “You have no battles about to occur, and haven’t fought on the field for months. Fea bodies shut down when they’re over-exhausted by magic, but long periods of physical activity, like in any creature, causes the same effect,” he returns with the glass, a brow raised. “I’m also guessing this is the first time in years you’ve spent this long in bed?”

 

“Fuck,” Aedion closes his eyes against the light. “I’m not relaxed.”

 

“But your body is,” Gavriel sits back down, offering the water. “It’s sensing no danger, so it’s dropping its guard. It’s no surprise that you’re becoming sick now. People usually get sick as soon as they stop being busy, giving their body a moment to realise the symptoms.”

 

Aedion gingerly takes the water, sipping at it. “What time is it?”

 

“Ten in the morning. You’ve been in bed for two days.”

 

Jerking around, Aedion stares at his father. “ _Two days?_ What about Aelin’s friend?”

 

“They weren’t there,” Gavriel shrugs. “Amalia went in our place.”

 

“How could you let me sleep for two days?” Aedion growls, swinging his legs over the side.

 

“Lie _down_ ,” Gavriel scowls, standing. 

 

“Amalia has the inn to run, and Aelin needed us to meet her friend-“

 

“Aedion!” Gavriel barks, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Lie down. Everything is fine, and you are not needed right now. You’re obviously still tired, and don’t think you can get around the fact you lied to me about how you were feeling. If you are ever ill like this again then you need to tell me, or at least someone, because you pushing yourself to the point where you collapse can’t continue. It makes you of no use to anyone.”

 

They both pause for a moment, until Aedion finally relents, moving back to under the blankets, already shivering thanks to the brief exposure to the cold (even if the room is warm, it’s still fucking freezing).

 

“What was she like?”

 

Shit. Shit, he can not ask these things now. Not when he still feels like that bottle of emotions is shattered inside of him, rattling around in his chest. Not when Gavriel is clearly annoyed and is probably going to either ignore him or just leave-

 

“She was fierce,” Gavriel immediately replies, no hesitation or need for clarification. “Fierce and bright like the stars in the sky, beautiful and elusive, changing on depending what angle you admire her from. She loved music, to dance and laugh and just be _free_.”

 

He breathes that last word, tawny eyes alight with passion. “My god, her voice, Aedion. She would laugh so loudly, not caring who heard. When she spoke there was almost this command in her voice, this firmness that would demand attention from everybody in the room. She was a natural speaker, but whenever she spoke it would almost be as if she was speaking only to you, making you feel as if you’re the only person she’s given her complete and undivided attention to.”

 

“What else did she like?” Aedion tries to keep his voice steady.

 

He hasn’t had someone so close to his mother to speak to in years.

 

“The beach,” Gavriel reminisces. “We would go down to the shoreline, sit by a fire and look at the sky while we talked. She loved escaping the castle, and I would help her.”

 

“I wish I knew her,” Aedion feels it settling in his bones, that old sorrow that occasionally shakes him from inside out. “I wish I knew what kind of a person she was. I wish I had the chance to talk to her.”

 

Too many impossible wishes. He knows how useless they are.

 

“She would be so proud of you,” Gavriel says softly. “So, incredibly proud.”

 

“Right,” Aedion tries to steady his voice, shutting his eyes. “Right.”

 

Maybe Gavriel knows that’s a lie.

 

~~~

 

“Why the rutting hell did this take so long?” Aedion growls, snatching a file off the table of the meeting room. “And where is Aelin’s friend?”

 

“I suppose they just dropped off the file,” Gavriel sighs, then starts. “Aedion! You shouldn’t read that!”

 

“You have got to be-“ Aedion’s face darkens immeasurable, flinging the file back onto the table before storming out.

 

Blinking, Gavriel wanders over to the file. Opening it, he reads the words written there.

 

_‘We needed you two to spend some gods damn time together outside of the castle so you would get some alone time. Give Amalia a large tip for me; she was nervous about leaving the file.’_

 

_Your magnificent queen, Aelin_

 

Typical. 

 

~~~

 

“So, did you two finally work out your shit?” Aelin drawls from her throne, Rowan sighing besides her.

 

Instead of answering, Aedion crosses his arms and glares. Sensing his son’s rising anger Gavriel hastily takes a step forward.

 

“Your Majesty,” Gavriel bows his head slightly, “we feel that the trip was a little excessive…”

 

“I don’t,” Aelin scowls right back at Aedion. “You were on the verge of collapsing but said nothing, Gavriel was still staring after you like an abandoned kitty cat-“

 

All three males in the room choke at that.

 

“-and I couldn’t take it anymore!” Aelin throws her hands up. “You two just needed to spend some time together without others around, and it looks like it did some good.”

 

Aedion feels a brief flash of confusion at this before realising that they had walked back into the castle while discussing the Laical book together, Aedion talking energetically and Gavriel adding in his own thoughts. And now that he thinks about it, Aedion does suppose he’s standing a step closer to Gavriel than he usually would.

 

Ugh. Now he wants to step away, if only to just _spite_ his cousin.

 

“I am going back to bed,” Aedion announces, turning on his heel.

 

“Do you have your book?” Gavriel asks, stopping Aedion in his tracks. “If so, then just go to sleep tonight without reading. You’re still tired from not sleeping enough yesterday and the journey today.” 

 

He nods, holding back the flush of heat he can feel rising from Aelin’s mocking grin. Sending her one last glare, he finally leaves for his room. Rowan, Aelin and Gavriel stand together for a few moments, Rowans raising his brow at Gavriel, who subtly shakes his head in return.

 

“Well,” Aelin brakes the silence, “at least you can finally get him to go to sleep at bed-time now.”

 

Being called ‘uncle kitty-cat’ was better than this shit. 

 

 

2.

 

It’s the small things that are better.

The way that Aedion smiles at Gavriel when he enters the room, and gives a nod of recognition. The way he makes small talk back to Gavriel by asking how he is. Or how at dinner Aedion occasionally sits a little closer to him at the table from time to time, never entering the conversation unless Gavriel or another person questions him, but there all the same.

 

When Gavriel wants to find Aedion and ask him about things, he finds and asks.

But he never pushes too far, or stays too long.

 

When Aedion wants to speak to his father or be close, he moves down a seat at the dinner table, but the important questions are always lodged in his throat.

So he just leaves with that shattered bottle rattling in his chest. 

 

Things are better, but still unsaid.

 

Aelin’s sick of their bullshit.

 

“I sent them away together for over a week,” she seethes, sitting with Rowan, staring at the sheets. “How has it become _worse_?”

 

Sighing, Rowan slips an arm around her shoulders. “At this point they’ve created a bridge, and they’re both terrified to cross it. And what the hell did I say about meddling? I knew it would do no good.”

 

Aelin sighs, rubbing at her face. “Aedion’s cracking. I can tell.”

 

Rowan nods in agreement. “You’ve interfered enough. It’s at the point where they have to learn how to talk, how to interact, on their own,” he pins her with a glare. “No more shitty excuses to get them out of the city.”

 

“We had fun, didn’t we?” Aelin scowls, elbowing him. “Even if you were still being a pain in the ass.”

 

“I’m never letting you and Fenrys go drinking together again.”

 

“Wanna bet on that, bird brain?”

 

“Of course, your _majesty.”_

 

_~~~_

 

“Aedion, what do you think?”

 

Head snapping up, Aedion frowns at Fenrys. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Pay attention, boyo,” Fenrys rolls his eyes, ignoring Aedion’s scowl. “Tonight. The city. Drinking.”

 

“I have work.”

 

Aelin turns from her own conversation, frowning and leaning forwards. “You missed my last ten birthdays.”

 

He stares right back at her, eyes narrowed. “And I’ve never celebrated mine. Besides, for your last birthday you held a party. It took over a week to clean up the city’s streets from the festival and the palace from your private party! You got a _ruby tiara_ from Dorian and Manon and I got you nine books that you _gave me the list for._ Nesryn even sent you over gifts and she’s an empress ruling with Sartaq. You’ve had fantastic birthdays. You have nothing left to guilt me with.”

 

“Do you really think that?”

 

“I do.”

 

“You aren’t as smart as you make out to be.”

 

“Neither are you. Bluffing runs in the family.”

 

“Come tonight,” Aelin scowls. “Get out. Meet some people your own age. You need more friends outside of our group.”

 

“I have plenty of friends!” Aedion scowls, sitting back.

 

“Ren’s sick of you! So is Kyllian!” Aelin snaps, pounding her fist on the table. “Make a friendship with someone you don’t work with!”

 

“I will when you do!”

 

“I’m the queen! Everyone works for me!”

 

“ _Exactly!”_

 

Everyone in the room sinks in their seats, the palace officials glancing further up the table where Aelin and her main court sit.

 

“Please, Aedion?” Elide asks, leaning towards him from where she sits next to Lorcan, looking at him pleadingly, smiling kindly. “I’d like you to be there.”

 

“Of course,” Aedion smiles back. “When and where?”

 

Aelin throws her fork down. “I am your queen, you know!”

 

“Doesn’t stop you from being a sisterly _pain in the ass!”_

 

_“You complete and utter-“_

 

 _“_ That’s enough,” Rowan snaps, nearly standing as the two cousins begin to rise from their seats. “Stop provoking each other! Aedion, if you’re going then good. Aelin, stop burning the table.”

 

Scowling, they both sit again.

 

“You were never this difficult when we were children and I wanted you to have parties with me,” Aelin scowls at her food, stabbing at it with a fork. “Back when I wanted to play dress up and you let me-“

 

“ _You swore not to-“_

 

_~~~_

 

“I don’t see why you yelled,” Elide speaks to Aedion in hushed tones, the rest of the group walking further up the street. “From what I remember you used to love playing dress up and having tea parties with Aelin.”

 

“Wearing dresses in exchange for large amounts of cake and chocolate wasn’t the worse deal in the world,” Aedion tries not to watch where Aelin and Lysandra walk together. “Besides, she had no female friends that wanted to play with her. I didn’t want her to be sad or lonely,”

 

Nodding, Elide crosses her arms. “As long as you’re alright.”

 

Grinning, he wraps an arm around her shoulders. “We’re about to go drinking and dancing. I’m more than alright.”

 

As soon as they enter the building Fenrys and Aelin head for the bar, the others following. The two quickly whirl away, Rowan leaning back in a seat to watch them go. Lysandra slips off with them, and Elide has somehow managed to convince a stiff Lorcan to follow her into the dance floor. Elide dances best she can to the bands music, Lorcan on the edge of smiling as he stands with her, glaring at those who come too close.

It’s hilarious to watch.

 

“You’re not joining them?” Rowan asks Aedion as they sit at the bar.

 

“Oh, I am. I just need something to warm me up first,” Aedion grins, saluting him with a glass. “It’s the cold season, after all.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Rowan stands, heading off towards Aelin. Drowning his drink Aedion follows.

 

They dance and dance and dance, their feet pounding against the floor in a way that shakes the building. He picks up Lysandra to spin her, both of them cackling in delight. The music sweeps them all away until they collapse back at the bar, bright eyed and breathless as they order more drinks. Lysandra slips away for a moment.

 

A new bartender smiles at Aedion, holding eye contact for a second longer than necessary. Dark hair, slight muscles visible under his shirt, tan skin. 

 

Piercing green eyes.

 

He smiles back.

 

~~~

 

Lysandra laughs huskily, leaning forward to push Aedion further back against the wall. “I think Aelin is concerned with your interest in the male bartender.”

 

“Hmm,” Aedion noses the crook of a strong neck. “I’m honestly just surprised you suggested this.”

 

“I think,” Lysandra breathes against Aedion’s neck, a hand trailing up his stomach, “I’d like to take you tonight. In this form.”

 

Oh gods. Oh gods, something in him quakes at the idea of that. Her male form is just as stunning as her female and the very fact that she _suggested_ this, that she wants to _try_ this-

 

He surges forward, and their kissing. Their devouring each other and he can’t wait, he can’t wait to get back to the castle when Lysandra is already pushing up his shirt and running her hands over him and-

 

“ _Shit_.”

 

A group of people stare from the now-open doorway.

 

~~~

 

“Not a word,” Aedion growls as they walk back to the castle, Aelin next to him.

 

Aelin smirks, albeit a little pale. “No need to be embarrassed. Everyone likes shaking it up from time to time.”

 

Even Lysandra throws her queen a glare, but in her usual form and clothes.

 

Aedion scowls, leaning away. “Just shut up.”

 

“Fine.”

 

The silence sits for three minutes.

 

“I mean-“

 

“ _Shut the rutting hell up.”_

 

~~~

 

“How have you been?” Gavriel clears his throat, trailing Aedion out of the training room.

 

“Good,” Aedion tries not to tense, to remain relaxed.

 

“How was drinking last night?” Gavriel raises a brow. “Fenrys still hasn’t shown his face.”

 

“He and Aelin are monsters,” Aedion mutters, remembering their commentary during the night. “Let them suffer.”

 

Gavriel chuckles. “Fenrys drinks worse than a twenty year old.”

 

“Or twenty-four year old,” Aedion feels his lip twitch up in a smile. 

 

“You know,” Gavriel clears his throat. “We-we’ve never really talked about your, ah, preferences before. Such as whether you like males or females. Or both! Both is fantastic, too.”

 

Aedion physically stops, slowly turning to blink at his father. For a moment they both stand there, Aedion gaping slightly as Gavriel begins to fidget.

 

“I-“ Aedion takes a moment to think of the right words. “Are you... are you asking about what I...?”

 

Immediately, Gavriel swallows, mirroring Aedion’s discomfort as his hands clench and unclench at his sides. “I heard about last night, and realised that we’ve never really had a conversation or talked about your- your preferences-“

 

“Oh my gods.”

 

“Or not!” Gavriel holds up his hands, confusion, panic and slight fear flashing across his face. “We don’t need to talk about if you don’t want to. That’s fine. I just thought that maybe there were some things you’d like to discuss or tell me. I’m aware that you apparently had a past relationship with Kyllian-“

 

“This is happening,” Aedion blinks slowly, dazed. “We’re actually talking about this.”

 

“It’s just, I heard about last night, with Lysandra-“

 

“Does everyone know about that?” Aedion chokes, raising his hands to card through his hair. “What did Aelin and Fenrys tell you?”

 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Gavriel can’t meet his eyes, wincing as much as Aedion is. “There is such a thing as people who may be romantically attracted to both genders, yet only... _prefer_ one in that sense and-“

 

This entire conversation is bad for Aedion’s health.

 

“No,” Aedion holds up both his hands, taking a step back. “Thank you for this... conversation. We can continue it much, _much_ later in life. And I don’t just... _prefer_ one gender. I know what I like and that doesn’t need to be debated.”

 

“Of course not,” some of the tension leaks from Gavriel as he relaxes, clearly relieved. “I was just worried since you seemed to have struggled in the regards to finding a partner before Lysandra. If there’s any confusion over what you do or don’t prefer-“

 

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Aedion scowls. “I love Lysandra. I don’t care if she’s male or female; whichever she feels more comfortable in. But I know for certain that I prefer both genders. I love Lysandra and Lysandra is a female and that suits us both.”

 

“Of course,” Gavriel nods vigorously, the panic now showing. “But you should know that there’s nothing to be ashamed about, and there’s no need to loose confidence as a male because of what happened last night.”

 

“I haven’t lost my confidence,” Aedion blinks again, still scowling. “Why would you think that? Do I act as though I have no confidence? Because I do.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel swallows again, tawny eyes looking anywhere but at Aedion. “Of course you do. I know that. Just... ignore whatever Fenrys says.”

 

They stand there, both looking anywhere but the other.

 

Aedion can’t leave for lunch fast enough.

 

~~~

 

“Fucking hell,” Aedion hisses, resisting the urge to bang his head against the table. “That was horrific.”

 

Aelin smirks. “I wish I was there for that.”

 

Turning his head, Aedion glares. “I don’t know how, but you had something to do with this. You’re responsible.”

 

“Or your father could actually be concerned for you?” Aelin looks up from the documents she’s reading, eyes heavy and ringed. “I, for one, would have loved to be there to watch that awkward conversation, but I wasn’t. That disappoints me greatly. You need to accept that Gavriel is trying to be a part of your life, and that he’s succeeding.”

 

“Fine,” Aedion wipes his face with his hand. 

 

“Although, I did tell him how you were raised on the battlefield with no male around to question about your growing curiosity. I wonder if that had some effect.”

 

“Damn you.”

 

“I already am.”

 

Breathing deeply, Aedion contemplates his next words. “If our positions had been reversed, if I was the younger one and you were older when the war broke out. would you have come back for me?”

 

Her eyes shutter, becoming guarded. “I regret many of the things I did.”

 

“I would have found you,” Aedion stares at his lap. “I would have knocked down the door of every assassin guild in the continent if I knew you were alive.”

 

“I would have too,” Aelin’s voice is soft in the room. “I don’t know why I believed you betrayed me. If I’d known I would have gone to you. We would have left.”

 

“Thank you,” Aedion bows his head.

 

~~~

 

“So, boyo, Lysandra isn’t as busy today and I thought it’d be a good idea if you two talked-“

 

“-for military purposes-“

 

“-over lunch. Since that’s the time you two are most likely free-“

 

“-purely for business-“

 

“-and maybe you could spar a little afterwards! Swap techniques, get the adrenaline pumping, just like I did with that female in the northern isles fifty years back-“

 

“- _Fenrys_ -“

 

“-or you two could go at your own pace and look at some weaponry!”

 

Aedion stares at the two older fae, Fenrys grinning widely while Rowan nearly covers his face with a hand, his features screwed with displeasure.

 

“You do realise,” Aedion begins slowly, “how ridiculous this is, don’t you?”

 

“Thank you!” Fenrys throws his hands up.” Told you. Lysandra and him are fine. If anything they just need another good night out.”

 

“I don’t want to go out with you. And Lys and I are fine. Did Aelin put you up to this? I swear to the gods-“

 

“She didn’t,” Rowan breathes in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I knew this was an awful idea.”

 

“Did Gavriel ask you to do this?” Aedion growls, low in his throat.

 

“No,” Fenrys is still grinning, mirth in his eyes. “But we did hear your interesting conversation a few days ago. Thought we’d lend our thoughts.”

 

“Go rot in hell.”

 

“How dare you speak to your elders like that.”

 

~~~

 

“Gods,” Lysandra growls, pushing Aedion against the door to their room as soon as he closes it, smashing her lips against his. 

 

Aedion releases a muffled sound of surprise, brows raised, but wraps his arms around her waist just as enthusiastically. It’s a little shocking, the ferocious way she tries to devour him. When she pulls away he smirks, both of them breathing heavily. 

 

“A little pent up, hmm?” Aedion gives her his trademark grin, leaning in closer.

 

Lysandra smirks right back, leaning in close with her arms wrapped around his neck. “I believe that we were going to continue our discussion from the over night. You might want to cancel training tomorrow morning in case you can’t attend.” 

 

Gods. Not many things make his knees go weak like this. 

 

~~~

 

“So,” Gavriel strolls next to Aedion, “I heard you and Lysandra talked. Aelin said she had to bring you breakfast this morning because you were tired. Are you feeling alright?”

 

“Does anyone do anything but _gossip_ in this court?!”

 

 

3.

 

Take Aedion camping, they said. It’s a good bonding activity, they said. You could teach him to _shift_ , they said. Do it while its _warm_ , they said. Gavriel is never listening to their goddamn bullshit again. The jackets they had to bring along are one of the reasons why.

 

“So,” Aedion shoulders his bag, eyeing off into the distance, “we could hike up to the top there and set up camp.”

 

He can barely believe that Aedion has agreed to come. Though he suspects that there was a large amount a blackmail, threats and bribery involved. From who he doesn’t know. No, he does. Rowan has been meddling as much as Aelin. Just in a much more direct way.

Such as outrightly threatening Aedion to participate, Gavriel’s sure.

 

“I agree,” Gavriel starts walking. “Have you ever attempted shifting before?”

 

“Not intentionally,” Aedion sucks on a tooth, thinking back. “After magic was stopped nobody could shift forms, and even once it was freed I didn’t immediately shift the way a few fae were reported to.”

 

“What about before magic was locked away?” Gavriel frowns. “Did you ever shift?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did you ever feel the need to shift? Or felt close to doing so?”

 

Aedion’s brows furrow. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never shifted, or had the need to do so described to me.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel mutters, “so we’re working from the very start.”

 

“How do we know I can even shift?” Aedion frowns, keeping pace easily with Gavriel. “I’m only a demi fae, I may not even have the ability. I don’t even have any magic.”

 

“Some techniques may still help you control your urges as a demi fae,” Gavriel says. “Some training with said new techniques could help you reach your full potential. Up until this point you’ve been trained mainly by humans, or fae that use magic,” he sends Aedion a dangerous smile, “now you’ll be dealing with us.”

 

Aedion grins straight back. “I’ll handle it.”

 

“Good,” Gavriel continues forward, “because once we make camp we’re starting. No brakes until we’ve completed today’s agenda.”

 

Aedion follows after him, excitement sparking in his chest. The sun is setting, but still they will work. Finally, a chance to train with a legendary warrior. _This_ is what he’s been waiting for his entire life.

 

~~~

 

“Breath, Aedion. In through the nose, then out through your mouth.”

 

Obeying, Aedion copies the motion, sucking in the breath slowly before releasing it once again. 

 

“Describe to me what you hear. Focus, and try to tell me the individual sounds.”

 

“Birds to my left, near north, a flock of them,” Aedion murmurs, trying to expand his range of hearing. “Blue birds. The Little Folk are near us, to the left, I can hear them moving through the trees and bushes. Besides that, there’s the basic sounds of other birds and creatures.”

 

“What about the river?”

 

Aedion furrows his brows. “We passed that hours ago.”

 

“Try to hear it.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Just look out for the sounds. Try to key in on the sounds of the rushing water.”

 

After another few minutes Aedion shakes his head, cracking his eye open. “Can we start training?”

 

Sighing heavily, Gavriel rubs his face with his hand. “This _is_ training. You’ve never explored your senses before. You should still be able to hear the river, your range should be wide enough.”

 

“I’ve never been able to hear that far before,” Aedion barely resists growling. “I doubt I could hear over halfway. Have demi fae outside of their shifted form been able to?”

 

“I don’t know,” Gavriel admits, examining Aedion. “Lorcan has never needed to shift; he was born in his fae form. Most demi fae with the amount of fae blood in their systems that you have contain the ability to shift, or at least have the full abilities of a shifted fae yet stay in a human form. At least, the more powerful ones do.”

 

“Great,” Aedion cards his fingers through his hair, scowling. “What now?”

 

“Do you have any abilities or connections to water?” Gavriel asks. “Like Aelin you’re an Ashryver; you both contain the same amount of blood from that bloodline. You have the same great-grandmother.”

 

“I have no magic in that regard,” Aedion’s scowl deepens. “I’ve always been better at the physical than magical aspects.”

 

“Which is why we’re focusing on your senses,” Gavriel sits forward. “I understand that this may be frustrating, but right now we need to build of _something_. So just close your eyes. I’m going to turn into my lion form, and move towards the river. Listen to me as I go. When I come back tell a which point you could no longer hear me, alright?”

 

Giving a nods, Aedion closes his eyes once again. He hears his father leap of into the undergrowth in his lion form. He hears him work his way through the trees, animals scattering around him, Gavriel obviously not silencing his movements to make it easier for his son. He moves further and further away, Aedion just listening to him scrape over some rocks before hearing him becomes impossible. 

 

Opening his eyes, Aedion sighs, sipping at water as he waits for Gavriel to return once again. It doesn’t take long, a lion quickly sprinting back through the forest. Eyeing Aedion, Gavriel slows to a trot, slinking towards Aedion before shifting back.

 

“I heard you get to the rocks, but not much after that,” Aedion admits, squinting in the direction Gavriel appeared from. 

 

“Interesting,” Gavriel taps his fingers against his leg, eyes narrowing in thought. “So it’s easier for you to span your range if you have something to focus on.”

 

“I suppose so,” Aedion agrees, sighing. 

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel gives a small smile. “You do realise that you heard over half-way to the river, right?”

 

Blinking, Aedion gives a grin back. “I suppose I did.”

 

~~~

 

“So you and Lysandra. How are things?”

 

Aedion gives a soft smile, stoking at the fire. “They’re better than ever.”

 

“That’s good to hear,” Gavriel smiles, not bothering to hide his happiness. 

 

“What about you?” Aedion snorts. “Any females of interest?”

 

A long silence follows, broken by the crackle of meat over the fire. Aedion immediately regrets the question, now not knowing what to do with any answer. He stares into the flames, Gavriel copying his position.

 

“No,” Gavriel answers quietly. “No females of interest at the moment.”

 

“Have-“ Aedion clears his throat. “Have there been any?”

 

“A few. None of interest, just of presence, I suppose.”

 

“Right,” Aedion mumbles, sighing slightly.

 

“Well,” Gavriel tips his head back to stare at the clear, star-speckled sky, “this is a lot nicer during spring. Even if damn jackets are needed. Is there a single warm spot in this country?”

 

Aedion laugh. “Along the coast is warmer. Need to melt your old bones?”

 

“Careful, the day you pass thirty you’ll realise how troublesome it is,” Gavriel smiles warmly back.

 

“Please, Fenrys doesn’t have a single issue,” Aedion snorts, grinning and sitting back. “When I was sick, and you spoke of her…”

 

“Your mother,” Gavriel sighs, the sound heavy. “I meant what I said when we first met. You look like her.”

 

“That’s all anybody ever says,” Aedion responds, just as quietly. “But I only remember her being sick, pale and drawn.”

 

“She was so much more than that,” Gavriel shakes his head. “So much more.”

  
Aedion sucks in a deep breath, examining his father. His father, who nearly killed himself. The scarring around Gavriel’s neck is still clear as day, a stark reminder of Gavriel’s near-sacrifice. He still remembers running up the barracks, sobs building in his throat, tears running down his face to struggle through the black blood covering his cheeks. Screams built and wheezed in his throat as he threw himself down the ladder, just pushing a bastard away from Gavriel before he managed to tear out Gavriel’s throat completely. 

He still doesn’t understand why gavriel did it. Why he would say ‘together,’ why he would go out there and nearly end his life when they could have fought together for more time. Time like this, to get to know one another better. To trade and switch stories. Already Gavriel has shared many great exploits with Aedion. Some stories he knows, and some he doesn’t. Some Gavriel dispel as complete rumours, and others he adds finer details to.

They could have lost it all.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel’s voice cuts through his thoughts, dragging him back to the future. “What are you thinking?”

 

Aedion draws in a breath. “Why did you go on the other side of the gates instead of helping us close them?”

 

“To give you a greater chance of living,” Gavriel immediately answers without hesitation. “To simply push the Valg back wouldn’t have been enough. We needed someone to hold them back on the other side.”

 

“You could have died.”

 

Gavriel gives him a steady look, something like sorrow in his gaze. “You could have as well. That’s the cost of war. I’m glad I lived, if only to gain this time to finally get to know you. Besides,” Gavriel’s expression turns flat, “let’s not forget that you were nearly falling off your feet, yet still insisting on fighting.”

 

“I needed to stand by my men,” Aedion replies, stubbornness seeping into his voice, posture and very being. 

 

A low growl forms in the back of Gavriel’s throat. “You nearly pushed yourself to death.”

 

“So did you,” Aedion laughs darkly.

 

“You should have rested,” Gavriel grits his teeth, worry lacing his features.

 

“So you’re allowed to risk your life, but I’m not?” Aedion sits back, crossing his arms.

 

“Yes!” Gavriel snaps, voice almost as forceful as when he first demanded that Aedion would rest during that final battle. “Gods-be-damned, Aedion. You are _twenty-four years old_. Compared to my life of over five-hundred that is nothing. _You deserve more time._ ” 

 

“We could have had more time, but you knew you would die and tried anyway,” Aedion knows there’s desperation in his eyes. “Why?”

 

“You are my pride,” Gavriel knows how heavy the words weight. “In both the sense of you being the thing I am proudest of, and being my pride as in my family. I wish to be worthy of being your father, but more than that I wish for you to have the ability to grow to your fullest potential. You may not understand this yet, but to a parent there is nothing more precious than their child, their legacy. For fae this is even more so. With both your mother and mine combined fae blood, you being born is a miracle of chance. If stepping through those gates meant giving you a higher chance of living your life, of being happy, then I would do nothing different.” 

 

Aedion breathes in a deep, unsettled breath. “When I was sick, you took care of me, didn’t you?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Aedion stares down at his hands. “Thank you. Thank you for caring for me, for defending me and for being willing to have pride in me. I hope I can become worthy it.”

 

“Oh, Aedion,” Gavriel reaches over to clasp his shoulder, a wide smile spreading across his face. “You already are. You have no idea how proud you’ve already made me.”

 

Once, those words would have been met by disbelief, and anger. 

 

Now, Aedion has to keep his tears at bay, not fighting it when Gavriel’s solid hand changes to a solid arm around his shoulders. A steady, warm presence as he tips his head back to stare at the stars. 

 

“Tomorrow, we’ll do another hour of breathing to explore your senses.”

 

Crap. 

 


	2. Lights, Snow, Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _
> 
> “What’s happened?” He whispers back. “Attack? Assassins?”
> 
> “Fleetfoot’s missing!” Aelin hisses frantically. 
> 
> Aedion jerks back, nearly banging his head against the wall. “What?”  
> _
> 
> A chapter involving holiday chaos and feels. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the second chapter! I gave it a holiday theme since holidays are coming up and a lot of us know what a stressful time it can be (and it's also a convenient way to get everyone in the same place).
> 
> Here's some Terrasen family christmas disasters!

4.

“Aedion!”

He freezes at the hiss, turning around to stare at Aelin. She rushes around the corner and up to him. Dirt smudges her clothes, her hair, her shirt in disarray and her eyes wild with panic. Immediately he grips her back, assessing for injuries and analysing the empty hallway. He drags her into an alcove, tucked away from prying eyes. Holiday decorations or red and green even manage to fill the small space, but they make do. Aedion releases a sigh once he see’s that she’s free of injuries, yet the distraught sewn across his face quickly brings him to attention once more.

“What’s happened?” He whispers back. “Attack? Assassins?”

“Fleetfoot’s missing!” Aelin hisses frantically.

Aedion jerks back, nearly banging his head against the wall. “What?”

“There was a hole in the garden fence by the fountain! I chased her but lost sight and now she’s somewhere in the city all alone!”

“Gods!” Aedion releases her arms. “Why didn’t you say so? You call the cavalry! I’ll get the captain of guards to put all his men on standby and spread the word-“

“No!”

“No?” Aedion leans in closer in disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“No!” Aelin narrows her eyes. “We can’t have people know she’s missing! How many people do you think would like to capture and sell the queens hound? Or random her? What would be do then? The kingdom could go bankrupt!”

He swears vibrantly, raking his hands through his hair. “We could search the city ourselves. Have you asked anyone else to help?”

“Everyone else is working on the festivities,” Aelin whispers, glancing outside the alcove. “You look like me, and she loves you thanks to how much you play with her and sneak her treats, so I thought you’d be the right person to ask to help.”

“You’re damn right I am!” Aedion growls. “And I don’t feed her treats; that’s all Evangeline.”

“I would have thought you above blaming children,” Aelin glares. “We all know you’re soft for Fleetfoot. Anyway, the people also love you and are willing to talk to you, so I have no doubt that you’ll be able to find out if they’ve seen anything to do with Fleetfoot.”

“If we go together we can make it seem as though we’re simply shopping,” Aedion already has schematics of the city running through his head. “Based on where she got loose we should start at the markets. The smells of food and people might have attracted her with how friendly she is. By going through the markets we can then loop around to circle the outer perimeter of the area she could be running through.”

“Right,” Aelin nods sharply. “I’ll get changed. Meet me out the front of the gates.”

~~~

“Your Majesty!” A store owner clasps a hand over her mouth. “What can I get you today?”

“I’m picking up some treats for my dog,” Aelin smiles sweetly, handing over the coins. “Have you seen many pets round today?”

“Not with the snow,” she clicks her tongue. “With everyone busy buying gifts I don’t they’ll be bringing out their babies.”

“Of course,” Aelin doesn’t bother to hide her disappointment, accepting the treats. “Have a lovely holiday.”

“As well as you, Your Majesty!” The flustered woman smiles brightly.

Not many people notice the queen, dressed in her casual clothing, bustling around in streams of people wrapped in jackets and jumpers and furs, decorations littering the streets. Lamb illuminate the streets along with other lights, a soft snow falling upon them. Musicians line every few corners, singing their odes and hymns for the season. Gifts are tucked under arms, wrapped in colourful paper with flopping bows. Several trees have been illuminated by small lights and creative pieces of decorations, from symbols dedicated to the gods to tiny stars and snowflakes.

“Have you done your shopping?” Aedion asks Aelin as they pass through the crowd, wrapped in a dark blue jacket Elide graced him with as an early gift.

“Of course,” Aelin glares, wrapping her own jacket closer around her body. “I needed to get it out of the way quickly. Have you?”

“Everyone but Gavriel,” Aedion seethes, then grins. “So, what did you get me?”

Immediately, Aelin whirls away, darting towards an alley. “Wait, I think I saw Fleetfoot!”

“Where?” Aedion’s eyes light up, and he quickly runs into the alley way with her. “She’s not in here, this is a dead end!”

“I thought I saw her,” Aelin’s face falls for a moment before rage takes place. “If someone has hurt her-“

“We’ll find her,” Aedion promises, noticing the melting snow by her feet. “Let’s keep going.”

He doesn’t need to mention that all of Terrasen’s court will be after blood if anything happens to Fleetfoot.

“At least we can pick up a few extra things,” Aelin nudges Aedion, nodding towards the stalls and illuminated shop windows. “See anything you like?”

“Not really,” Aedion shrugs.

“Really?” Aelin peers at him. “Nothing at all that isn’t a weapon or shield?”

Aedion laughs, nudging her back. “Come on, you know me.”

“Yes, I do,” Aelin mutters darkly.

~~~

Another two hours have passed, Aedion and Aelin chatting up multiple stall and shop owners. They pause occasionally to listen to the musicians and choruses, Aedion buying fruit tarts for both he and Aelin.

“So,” Aelin chews on the crust, “any idea on what to get Gavriel?”

“None,” Aedion frowns forlornly at his tart, the inside filling already licked clean as he brakes off the rim of the crust.

“Stop playing with your food. Just eat it,” Aelin licks filling off her fingers.

“Right,” Aedion snorts, watching her finger-tips clean. “Because the way I eat is disgusting.”

“It is,” Aelin gestures to him. “You were raised in a war camp and you eat like it.”

“It’s a tart. One of the best parts about a tart is all the different ways you can eat it!” Aedion argues. “I don’t know how many sweets and deserts you eat, but this is rare for me. Let me eat my tart in peace.”

Tipping her head back Aelin laughs, Aedion grinning at his accomplishment as she gasps for breaths.

“Gods,” Aelin softens. “To think these are the things we complain about to each other about now.”

“I like it,” Aedion rumbles, shoving the rest of his tart in his mouth, chewing and swallowing with vigour.

“So do I,” Aelin murmurs, brushing her shoulder against his. “But if you haven’t got Gavriel’s gift yet then what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea,” Aedion growls. “At first I thought of getting him some kind of weapon, or shield, but what’s the point when he basically has his own armoury?”

Aelin stares at Aedion for a long, hard moment. “I have no idea.”

“Exactly,” Aedion growls. “What do you get an immortal warrior?”

“What did you get Rowan?”

“An ink pot. I smashed his last one.”

“And Lorcan?”

“I got both him and Elide a blanket I found that Elide at least should love. Don’t look at me like that; you and Fenrys wouldn’t give him anything if it wasn’t for Elide.”

“And Fenrys?” Aelin drawls slowly, raising a brow.

A feral smile takes place, growing in size. “Evangeline and I got him a shirt with the words ‘moonbeam puppy’ written on the front.”

Stopping in her tracks, Aelin pivots to stare at her cousin. “You what?”

“Evangeline and I thought it would be nice,” Aedion smiles charmingly. “She was excited to see how the words were printed on the front in the tailors. And don’t tell her this, but I got her a patch-work smock with plenty of pockets for her to do gardening in.”

Aelin shakes her head, turning away so he’s unable to catch a glimpse of her smile. “What about me?”

“For that, dear cousin, you’ll have to wait,” Aedion wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Unless you’re willing to reveal what you got me?”

“You’ll just have to wait,” Aelin smiles.

~~~

“Fleetfoot!” Aedion turns the corner, sprinting after the golden dog.

In response Fleetfoot barks happily, running faster as she enjoys the game. She threads her way easily through the crowd, people crying out as she runs underneath stalls and further down the street. Cursing, Aedion barrels his way forward, shoving people to the side to come closer to Fleetfoot.

“Come here!” Aedion cries out desperately, whistling as he runs.

Normally catching up to the furry ball of joy would be of no challenge, but in the middle of a bustling crowd during the middle of the holiday shopping rush?

It’s near damn impossible.

He didn’t even have time to drag Aelin out of a store before he saw Fleetfoot seated happily in front of a stand, tail thumping happily as children pat her. Then she saw Aedion, and, thinking that they would play their usual keep-away game with how fast he darted towards her, she bolted away.

“Fleetfoot!” Aedion cries out desperately, diving forward to grab hold of her.

She twists away at the last second, and he goes sprawling in the snow.

“Fuck!” Aedion pops back up, snow clinging to his hair and clothes.

A gasp sound to his left, and he freezes at the mother clutching her young daughter staring down at him. The little girl, with her brown hair in two plaits and fur-trimmed hood pulled over her head, claps her gloved hands.

“Fu-!” She exclaims, trying to imitate the word. “F-Fuck!”

“Oh, gods,” Aedion blinks at the little girl, mortification colouring his cheeks.

With a strangled, angered sound the mother storms into the crowd, clutching her child close.

A bark grabs Aedion’s attention. He turns his head and cliches when Fleetfoot’s tongue licks his cheek, the dog hunched in the snow next to him, nose nudging his cheek as her tail wags furiously.

“Yeah, I love you too,” Aedion says sadly, patting her neck as he slowly stands. “Gods, you dragged us almost all the way across the city, didn’t you?”

Barking, Fleetfoot rests against his leg, panting.

“Yeah, you do,” Aedion scratches her ear. “Come on, we’ll find Aelin.”

Before they do he hunkers down to ruffle her ears, leaning in close. “Don’t worry, you’re getting plenty of treats for the holidays too, so no need to sneak out. But if anyone asks then they come from Evangeline, got it?”

It earns him another lick on the cheek.

 

5.

After the shopping debacle, more chaos ensues with the rest of the court. 

“What do you mean?” Rowan stares at Aelin in disbelief. “I walked Fleetfoot for three hours so you could take Aedion through the markets! And do you have any idea how hard it was to get her to stop following me when I left her next to that stall for Aedion to find her?”

“He gave no indication to what he would like!” Aelin growls, collapsing into an armchair. "Not my fault the bastard doesn't know how to shop!"

All of the court groans. Elide and Lorcan sit on a couch near the decorated tree, Fenrys sitting on the arm and Vaughan standing near the fireplace, a small blaze going. Lysandra lounges in another chair nearby, feet bare to dig into the soft carpet lining the room.  
It wasn’t difficult to gather everyone for the holidays. Aelin remembers when her parents and uncle would sit with her in the very room they’re all in now, a piano sitting in the corner near a large window, just begging to be played. Evangeline already did her part with Gavriel, the two of them decorating the spacious, yet homey room in decorations, Gavriel placing the smaller girl on his back and holding her up to reach the higher spots.  
It raised smiles on both Lysandra and Aedion’s faces to see Evangeline conspire with Gavriel, the two of them completing multiple tasks from decorating to organising everyone to meet for dinner at the proper times.

“So none of us has known what to get Aedion,” Rowan growls, pinching his brow.

“I have,” Elide frowns, pressed next to Lorcan with a cup of tea in hand.

“So have I,” Gavriel comments lazily from his armchair, not looking up from his book.

“Neither of you will say what you got him,” Aelin glares. “And you got him the jacket!”

“He needed one!” Elide argues back. “I got all of you little gifts! Besides, I would have thought that you’d know most out of everyone what to get him!”

“I got him a sword,” Aelin collapsing in a seat, head in hands. “Only for Chaol, Yrene and Dorian and Manon to each send him one down along with the gifts they sent us. And Rowan got him a knife. And Fenrys got him a dagger.”

“They’re all different!” Fenrys points out. “A sword, a knife and a dagger! I’m sure he needs all of those things!”

“He doesn’t,” Vaughan comments from his place by the fire. “I got him and you all cards, and I don’t know any of you well so that’s acceptable. The fact you all, people who actually know him, can’t think of anything is a little disappointing. Anyway, after this, I’m supposed to spend time with the men in the mountains for their festivities, so I’ll be there for a few weeks.”

“You still have relations with them?” Gavriel asks, looking up.

Vaughan gives a shrug. “I spent months with them. I enjoy their company.”

“Fine!” Aelin throws her hands up. “Vaughan got us all cards, including Aedion, but we all need to find him something besides weaponry to give him.”

“But Gavriel and I didn’t-“

“I know,” Aelin cuts Elide off, then glares at Lorcan. “Are you getting anyone anything this year?”

Lorcan glares right back. “I got all of you gifts. But I’m debating whether or not to actually give them to you.”

“He'll give you all gifts,” Elide smiles.

It’s not hard to see that he won’t if not for the female seated next to him.

“Alright,” Gavriel sighs, closing his book. “Why don’t you each take turns distracting Aedion for the day while the rest of your go get gifts? It’s obvious that Aedion isn’t the only person you’re struggling to buy for.”

Several people stiffen, averting their eyes from certain others in the room. Fenrys, in particular, sinks lowest in his seat.

“I’ll go talk to him first since I was planning to anyway,” Gavriel places him book down, rising from his seat. “Rowan, you take over in two hours.”

“Right,” Aelin stands, turning deliberately away from Rowan. “Rowan I’m going to shop with Elide, you stay with Fenrys.”

Blocking out Fenrys’ complaints, Rowan frowns at his mate. “Wait, have you not-“

“Let’s go, Elide,” Aelin pulls her cousin off the couch from under the blanket, dragging her along.

“But I already did my shopping!”

“Then just spend some damn time with me!”

~~~

“Would you like a tart?”

Smiling at his father, Aedion rises from the empty meeting room table. “Of course.”

“Good,” Gavriel pulls up a seat next to him, gesturing to Aedion to sit, “because I have a bag of them and I don’t want Fenrys to snatch them all away.”

Snorting, Aedion accepts a tart. Then pauses, and watches the way Gavriel breaks apart and eats the top crust before then eating the fruit filling until only a thin layer is left. Then Gavriel brakes away the outside, crusty rim, eating it before popping the rest out of the silver casing and devouring it.

“Are you alright?” Gavriel frowns at Aedion, noticing his uneaten tart in his hand.

“Fine,” Aedion starts eating his tart, fighting back a smile. “I’ve never met someone who eats tarts the same way I do.”

Gavriel blinks at him, golden features shining thanks to the winter sun pouring in through the windows. “What’s the point of having a tart if you can’t eat it in different ways? It’s one of the best parts about them.”

“Thank you!” Aedion laughs, beginning to eat his tart as well. “How’s Evangeline?”

“Spending time with some of the palace children,” Gavriel smiles warmly, affection held in his eyes. “She’s a brilliant young girl.”

“Of course she is,” Aedion fully accepts the pride flowing through him. “She’ll be a grand lady one day, of whichever of two lands she wishes. Lysandra’s, or Darrow’s.”

“Have you got everyone their gifts yet?” Gavriel asks, readily handing Aedion another tart as soon as he finishes.

“Yes,” Aedion chews away, “and you don’t need to keep force feeding me.”

“You don’t eat enough,” Gavriel argues. “Besides, if handing you extra helpings of food from time to time is force feeding you then I’m sorry for the torture.”

“It isn’t torture,” Aedion rolls his eyes.

“I know, I know,” Gavriel sighs. “To have a group of old fae males clinging to you, ruining your youth, getting in your way-“

“Good gods, stop,” Aedion laughs, placing a hand over his mouth as he chokes, sobering. “I’m… I’m really glad that I have these holidays to spend with you.”

“I’m glad, too,” Gavriel smile fondly at Aedion, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s nice to see how you work with the others.”

The smile he gains in return is softer, kinder, then Aedion’s usual smirks. Gavriel will admit that the holidays have brought out some kind of calmness in his son. Underneath that softness, however, is something deep and settling that Gavriel can’t quite place.

“Would-“ Aedion hesitates for a moment. “I’m going to visit the graves of some of my past teachers and friends. Would you… If you wanted to….”

Ah. Those are the stones that have been weighing down his pockets, pulling down his smiles.

“I’d be honoured to come,” Gavriel swallows thickly, forcing back a tidal wave of emotions. “To stand by you while you pay your respects and I make some of my own.”

“Thank you,” Aedion steadies his voice, keeping his eyes on the pastry in his hand. “Many people forget, but this holiday…”

“Is also a time of mourning,” Gavriel follows quietly. “I know; it’s what they preach in the churches along with the gods.”

“I never payed attention to those preaches,” Aedion murmurs, gaze turning dry. “I don’t think I’ve ever stayed awake, or even been to one in at least two years.”

“I avoided them in Doranelle,” Gavriel smiles at Aedion’s disbelieving look. “I may have patience, but even it can reach its limit.”

Slowly, Aedion grins. “Aelin is required to go. What do you think the chances are of us avoiding it? Of going to do something else?”

“What do you have in mind?” Gavriel asks, wondering how hard it would be to avoid their duties as blood-sworn warriors.

“They usually go from sunset to nightfall,” Aedion’s voice turns rough once again. “That’s… That’s usually when I visit them.”

It surprises Gavriel how quickly the mood plummets again. He knew it hadn’t truly raised, not with the conflict Aedion is obviously struggling with on the inside. Jokes are still flung out in the middle of tense conversations, the grins flashing, and issues set aside.  
But lately, after a joke is flung out, Aedion will pull back. Quieten slightly, or just keep going but direct his attention away. Chaol was not wrong when he said that Aedion was stubborn, that he could say something he doesn’t mean then deny it to his last breath. But ever since their trip to Rosamel there have been words following the silences, or Aedion drops the jokes sooner than expected. At rare times, even like these, he’d move the conversation back onto topic, asking Gavriel for more information or help on a subject instead of avoiding it.  
Just that small change in Aedion, the fact that he can he relent that stubbornness for just a fraction to Gavriel is one of the greatest achievements he believes he’s made with his son so far.

“Then we’ll go then,” Gavriel replies, voice just as quiet. “Who do you usually visit?”

It aches, aches down to the core when Aedion’s eyes, eyes so much older than they should be, drag up to meet his. “Everyone.”

~~~

“So,” Rowan eyes Aedion, sitting on the couch opposite him in the warm room with the decorated tree.

Neither are good with idle chatter, and with no clear instructions on what to do Rowan had simply ordered Aedion to follow him to the room with their decorated tree.  
Someone else should have been picked for this improvisation shit because he hasn't got the time.

“Maybe I’ll go find someone-“ Aedion begins to rise.

“Sit down.”

Narrowing his eyes, Aedion slowly sits back down, sinking into the couch. “Is there a reason why we’re doing this?”

“Aelin,” Rowan pauses, searching for the right words, “thought we should spend some time together. For the holidays.”

“Alright,” Aedion smirks, leaning back. “What exactly did she have in mind?”

“We’ll spend two hours in each other’s company before I have to leave and complete several tasks.”

Aedion blinks, the corners of his mouth tugging down. “That’s specific.”

“It is,” Rowan nods grimly. “So… You’ve been spending time with Gavriel?”

He watches Aedion play down his smile, trying to replace it with a grin instead. “I have.”

Rowan waits for him to continue. “And?”

“I’m not discussing my relationship with my father with you.”

Well, then. “Your father is my eldest friend.”

“He’s my father.”

Narrowing his own eyes, Rowan resists looking at the clock. It’s been a while since the two of them have had to hold a conversation together without the others, without training or, well, war involved. Aedion himself seems to realise that, eyes sliding to the side.  
They can’t talk about their love lives. Aelin is basically Aedion’s younger sister, so there’s no way the two of them can talk about anything like that. When it comes to training Gavriel’s been taking care fo that for the last few months. With jokes Aedion usually commits his shenanigans with Fenrys or Aelin, sometimes even Evangeline.  
With Rowan it’s always been conversations about current events that interest the two of them, never idle chit-chat.

“Did you get all your gifts?” Rowan sure as hell hasn’t, not with everyone pushing him to take his shift.

Why Gavriel and Elide, the two people that actually finished their gift shopping, can’t distract Aedion, Rowan doesn’t know.

“Yes,” Aedion stretches across the couch.

“Really?” Rowan examines him in surprise. “You?”

Aedion frowns. “I’m beginning to get a little insulted with how surprised everyone is at that.”

“Right,” Rowan raises a brow. “Who haven't you shopped for?”

“Gavriel,” Aedion admits, grumbling his father’s name.

A loud laugh erupts from Rowan, the ancient warrior straightening in his seat. “Gavriel? You managed to work out gifts for everyone but him?”

“You tell me what he’d like!” Aedion swings his legs around to sit up. “You’ve known him for centuries!”

“No,” Rowan leans back, grinning wickedly. “What kind of a friend would I be if I talked to you about your relationship with your father?”

“Just tell me,” Aedion glares. “There’s nothing I can think to give him besides weaponry, and even that seems out of place and too much like what I’m giving the others.”

That puts a bemused smile on Rowan’s face. “Have you just bought us all weapons?”

Perhaps they _can_ all restock Aedion's armoury, seeing as how that's clearly what the demi-fae favours.

“No, I got you an ink pot.”

And the smile is gone. “An ink pot?”

“I broke your last one,” Aedion scowls. “What else did you want me to get you?”

“Why the damn hell would I want it to be an ink pot?” Rowan asks incredulously. “Do I seem like the kind of male who would like an ink pot?”

“You were mad when I broke the last one!”

“Because you got ink all over my favourite rug!”

“Then you should have told me to get you a new rug!”

Placing his head in his hands, Rowan breaths in deeply, holding the breath before releasing it again. Aedion, his brother in arms and cousin, or brother, of his mate and wife. The son of one of his oldest friends, a male whom he deeply respects and cherishes. Someone who defended their country, and had Rowan’s back through battle. Who accepted Rowan as Aelin’s first blood-sworn warrior.  
A young bastard that he wants to rip the fucking head off of.

“Give the ink pot to Gavriel,” Rowan mutters into his hands. “I don’t want a single fucking thing from you now.”

“I’m not giving my father a damn ink pot, what message would that send?”

It hasn’t even been ten minutes into his shift.

~~~

“So,” Fenrys blinks at Aedion. “I was wondering if you’d like to go-“

“Fuck. Off,” Aedion pants, heaving as he grasps at the doorframe of his room, the door itself barely open.

Shirtless. Sweating and flushed. Clearly cut-off in the middle of physical activity, or at the very least close to it.

“I-“

“Go away,” Aedion growls, placing his head against the door frame, eyes closed. “I am begging you, go away-“

“Not so fast!” Lysandra shimmies past Aedion and through the door. “I have some last-minute things to do! I’ll see you later tonight!”

Both Aedion and Fenrys watch her walk steadily down the hall, both still staring the direction she went after she turned the corner, Aedion’s eyes wide and disbelieving. Her shoes click throughout the halls until they fade into nothing.  
Then Fenrys flicks his gaze over to the younger male.

“So, guess I should have waited for five minutes, huh?”

“Why?” Aedion thunks his head against the doorframe. “Why do I feel like I’m being passed around? Why do you all need me today?”

“Well, from the looks of it Lysandra doesn’t exactly need you-“

“Go away,” Aedion slowly turns to look at the fae. “Go, now. I have things I need to do.”

“No can do!” Fenrys grins. “It’s the holidays! Don’t you want to spend time with one of your father’s closest friends?”

“No,” Aedion tries to close the door.

“Look, boyo,” Fenrys sobers, bracing his forearm on the door frame. “I know we haven’t really had the chance to have a proper talk.”

Sighing, Aedion opens the door slightly. “About?”

“About the battle, about Gavriel, about stories you may want to hear about him,” Fenrys shrugs, eyes darkening. “In a different world, I may have ended up being your uncle if Gavriel had taken you in as a child. We would have told you stories, brought you back souvenirs, developed relationships with you... fate stopped all that from occurring. Wouldn't you like to get to know one another a bit better? The male who clearly would have been your favourite uncle?”

Aedion examines Fenrys. His mouth has turned down into a soft frown, his eyes wide and exposed. Longing and misery well in the dark pools, pleadingly staring at Aedion in hope. His hands have dropped from the doorframe, and he swears the older warrior has bent down (not by much) so that his eyes are level with Aedion’s. His golden hair falls over his dark orbs, and he slowly gives a small smile that shows his canines.

Oh, Aedion knows the damn puppy-dog eyes when he sees them. They were his most favoured tactic as a child.

“Did you really think this would work?”

A scowl snaps into place, annoyance rising in Fenrys’ eyes. “Just take a damn walk with me.”

“No.”

“You’re coming whether you-“

“What- get the fuck out!”

“Put a shirt on! We’re leaving!”

“What the rutting-“

~~~

Panting, dirtied and dishevelled, Aedion slams down bodily into the chair opposite Elide’s. “Is anyone else coming to this lunch?”

She blinks at him. “No.”

“If they need to buy my presents then they can just say,” Aedion mutters into his hands. “At this point, they can all just get me swords and be done with it.”

“You know?” Elide laughs, placing down her book.

The delicate wooden table groans under Aedion’s weight as he places his head down on his arms for a brief moment, avoiding the delicate plates that could spill food and tea onto the floor of the balcony. It’s a light, airy space out in the open, perfect for a simple, if not late, lunch. It’s such a change from the last two hours he had to spend with Fenrys.  
Two hours of his damn life he will never get back.

Aedion wipes at his face. “Am I right in guessing that they’re trying to distract me while they all shop?”

“Yes,” Elide sips at her warm chocolate drink. “Gavriel was nice enough to take a shift even though he already finished all of his shopping days ago.”

Paling, Aedion stares at his cousin. “He already got me a gift? What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Elide shrugs, placing her cup down. “What have you got him?”

“I do need your help with that,” Aedion smiles sheepishly. “He’s the only person I wasn’t able to find anything for.”

“Aedion,” Elide smiles widely, “I’m sure Gavriel will love literally anything you give him.”

“That’s why I can’t get him just anything,” Aedion groans. “What are you supposed to give your… I don’t know what you give your father on a holiday as a gift. I’ve already asked so much of him, and he’s given so much, so what could I give him?”

Elide laughs softly. “Just give him your time, that’s all Gavriel wants. Take him out to lunch and pay, or do something else with him.”

“I already asked him to spend holiday night with me,” Aedion mourns. “I’m just lost.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Elide pats his hand. “If it’s any consolation, I’m the last person who was supposed to watch you for the day. Aelin managed to weasel out of her shift.”

“Thank god,” Aedion sinks back into his seat. “After Fenrys I don’t know if I could have handled it.”

“She was going to take you out to get expensive cake.”

“Gods damn it!”

~~~

Everyone mingles around the room. Except for Aelin, who plays a fast-paced song on the piano, Rowan standing happily beside her, staring with adoration at his beaming mate. The fire roars heartedly, warming the room as everyone mingles around, laughing as they eat and chatter. Morning sunlight shines in through the windows, aiding the fire in its mission to fight against the morning chill.

“Today, we celebrate,” Aedion grins at Lysandra. “And tonight, we drag our feet to the churches.”

He doesn’t need to look at Gavriel to know that the older male is sending him a knowing look. They won’t be at the churches, but instead at a burial ground surrounded by piles of stones. The Terrasen version of graves, the loved ones left a rock, something long-lasting, to symbolise their remembrance.

Snorting, Lysandra elbows him in the ribs, sinking further back into the couch with him. “Evangeline is looking forward to it, she’s never been to a holiday sermon before.”

Turning around, Aedion gives a small smile at the girl in question, who sits next to the decorated tree with Gavriel, who teaches her how to thread strands of paper together to make woven crowns. Already Evangeline has one placed on her head, no doubt finely made by the older warrior. Even Fleetfoot, who sits by Evangeline’s feet, has one sitting lopsidedly on her golden head.

“She likes him,” Lysandra says quietly, happily. “They’re responsible for more than half of the decorations in this place.”

“I had no idea Gavriel knew how to make so many,” Aedion grins, watching the way Evangeline releases a deep laugh at something his father says.

“Go over there and talk,” Lysandra promos him, standing herself. “Fenrys promised he’d dance at least once with everyone, so I’m taking my turn.”

“Even Lorcan?”

“I think he was excluded from that promise,” Lysandra leans in close, her lips just brushing against his, “but I don’t believe he’s heartbroken over it.”

Indeed, the warrior in question was long ago convinced into dancing by his lady, whom he now twirls around and smiles at as she laughs. His magic no doubt braces Elide’s ankle, allowing for her graceful and smooth movements.  
So much laughter and happiness in one room, so much peace after so much struggling. In the firelight, it suddenly becomes clear that this, this moment, is a chance for them all to be happy together, to be free from worry for at least a single night.  
Standing, Aedion makes his way over to Evangeline and Gavriel.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Aedion tucks a piece of her hair behind an ear as he sits beside them. “Making crowns?”

“Gavriel’s been teaching me how,” she proudly holds up the crown in her hand made out of multiple bits of paper. “This one is for Lysandra. Gavriel’s making yours. It was supposed to be his but he said that crowns don’t suit him.”

“I don’t exactly look my prettiest with them either,” Aedion grins. “Are they tricky?”

“Yes,” Evangeline sighs.

“You just need patience,” Gavriel smiles, bemused, weaving a thick yet thin piece of folded paper into the crown. “You’ve done quite well.”

Beaming, Evangeline nods at Gavriel. “Thank you. Where did you learn to do this?”

“Five hundred years can teach you a thing or two,” Gavriel laughs. “This is just a different method of weaving.”

“Aedion!” Evangeline grins at him. “You try to make one.”

“Alright,” he takes a small pile of paper from her.

Gavriel demonstrates how to cut up the paper to make the crown shape, then where to make the holes to weave the folded, long strips of paper through.  
The first few tries are horrific and thrown into the fire for kindling, Evangeline declaring them unwearable with the same air as a queen declaring an execution. After several more attempts, he comes up with one decent enough that Evangeline decides to spare it from the flames.

“She’s quite intense about this,” Gavriel puffs out a breathy laugh as they watch Evangeline hand out the crowns.

“She is,” Aedion nods, scowling when Aelin walks up to nudge at him with her foot. “What?”

“We’re opening gifts now,” Aelin grins. “Grab whichever ones have your name on them and move your ass.”

“No need,” Aedion stands and starts chucking gifts to people based on whose name is on what.

“Aedion!” Aelin snaps, snatching a gift from his hands. “Some of these are delicate!”

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes and starts passing them out slowly.

Everyone opens their gifts, crying out in delight and laughing at what they receive. Aelin smiles over the fine dresses and books she receives, Lysandra as well as they compare weapons also bought for them. Fenrys laughs at the shirt from Evangeline and Aedion, putting it on to please the girl wearing her new gardening smock. Gavriel smiles at the assortment of texts everyone gathered for him, Aedion glancing away in shame at the lack of gift from him. Lorcan scowls at the all the dark clothes Aelin gives him and the bright yellow shirt from Fenrys, yet smiles at his other gifts. Elide gives a loud laugh as she reads the letter Manon sent her, an actual witches broom in one hand, polished and new. Lorcan turns pale at the sights of it.  
Even Vaughan smiles at the little gifts everyone received from him, delighted as much as everyone else.

Except for Rowan, who holds up a glass ink pot in one hand while glaring at Aedion.

“An inkpot,” he says slowly. “You actually got me a damn inkpot.”

“I keep telling you that I would have got you a new rug if I’d known,” Aedion scowls. “I just thought you were upset over the pot.”

“Why would I be upset over an ink pot?”

“I didn’t know! I just knew you were pissed!”

“Just open your gifts,” Lysandra smiles widely, gesturing to the pile by Aedion’s feet.

Skin crawling from the attention, Aedion sits in an armchair and pulls the first gift towards him. A finely-tailored leather jacket from Aelin, sure to fit well and offer protection against the cold, as well as looking damn good while doing so.

“You shouldn’t have, cousin,” he grins.

“It was a pleasure,” Aelin purrs, stretching out over the couch she’s claimed.

He kisses the top of Evangeline’s head at the thin blanket she’s provided him with, the patchwork blanket sure to be light during the summer. “Thank you.”

“So you don’t get too warm,” she beams, smoothing her hands lovingly over her smock.

“Slippers,” Aedion says dryly, holding up the shoes made out of wool that’s been dyed blue. “Did you get me this after or before I said I was getting you an ink pot?”

Rowan’s raised brow says enough, but there’s more amusement there instead of anger.

He smiles at the shirt with a snow leopard printed on the front. “A little too obvious as to what my favourite animal is, don’t you think?”

He swears Lysandra purrs next to him, the sound low and possessive, rumbling only through him. He chuckles internally at the shirt, at the clear fact that it's a print of which creature he belongs to. He places it down and moves onto the next gift, but not before pressing a kiss to Lysandra's cheek.

Both Elide and Lorcan got him a new dagger, curved before ending in a wicked point.

“You didn’t have to,” he smiles at them. “The jacket was enough.”

“That was Lorcan’s gift,” Elide says.

“Was it?” Brows raised, Aedion grins at the male in question.

“Just open Fenrys’ damn gift,” Lorcan growls.

Doing as he’s told, Aedion raises a brow at the new pair of black boots, a gold button holding the strap in place. “Shirt, jacket, shoes… Are you all coordinating an outfit for me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aelin grins. “No one bought you pants.”

“I never said I needed them,” Aedion grins right back.

A few chuckles sound out, Aedion kissing Lysandra on the top of the head and thanking everyone. There’s relief at the fact that Gavriel hasn’t come forward with his gift yet. Maybe his father also failed at coming up with an idea of what to give Aedion, though he can’t imagine his father lying to Elide and the others. Perhaps he’ll receive it later, which would then give Aedion enough time to find something for Gavriel himself-  
Until a beautifully decorated two-tiered cake, lathered in white icing with colours of blue, purple, pink and even gold dripping down the sides is placed on the table in front of him. Aedion's favourite colours.

Blinking, Aedion looks up at Gavriel, who smiles widely down at him.

“A cake?” Aedion asks, realising at once that everyone is grinning and smiling at him.

Gavriel sits opposite him, still smiling, this time a little sheepishly. “I contacted a few of your relatives over in Wendlyn, and discovered that your mother went to one of her favourite and most trusted healers to help with your birth. After that she left again, and your family barely noticed her arrival since they were busy with the festivities.”

“I… Festivities?” Aedion blinks again, slowly. “I don’t…”

“Happy birthday, Aedion,” Gavriel smiles widely, clear joy spreading across his face.

“Turns out you weren’t exactly twenty-four yet,” Aelin grins wickedly. “Of course, none of us thought you were born so late into the year…”

“And there’s this,” Gavriel hands over a folded piece of paper, sorrow cracking his features. “We had it drawn by an artist during a festival, and I’ve kept it with me since the day I left. I’m sorry it took me so long to have it sent down from my old place from Doranelle, I had to leave it there for safe keeping before coming here…”

Aedion unfolds the paper. On it is a drawing of Gavriel, and next to him a woman that could pass as Evalin herself if she tried. Her short hair makes what would have been a gold halo around her head, her broader shoulders straight. Somehow, even in the sketch that’s obviously been so loved, he can almost see the strength and life in her eyes. Gavriel was right; Aedion looks like his mother in so many different ways.

“Happy birthday,” Evangeline smiles happily at him.

Something in him cracks at the way everyone smiles so expectantly at him. At the way Gavriel’s golden eyes shine brightly as if celebrating Aedion’s birthday is the same as celebrating the most joyous occasion in the world.  
Something in him cracks when he remembers being pressed against a warm chest, cradled in arms with snow falling and a decorated tree to the right.  
The square is bustling with people, the stars bright above their heads. He listens to a heartbeat, body pressed against his mother’s chest as her jacket wraps around them both for warmth, a hand stroking his small back. His chin rests against a strong shoulder, gold hair tickling his cheek as a gentle voice whispers ‘happy birthday, Aedion.’  
The words send a sob tumbling up his throat, the soft touch and voice wrapping around his heart. His hands tremble as he holds the paper, so terrified of losing it already.

“You’ve given me my birthday,” Aedion croaks, looking at his father and unable to stop his tears. “You found it for me. You found her for me.”

He can’t hold back the shudders coasting through his body, gently placing the sketch down on the table and burying his head in his hands as he sobs. He tries, god’s damn it, he tries to hold back the tears but they run before he gains a chance. He’s vaguely aware of both Aelin and Lysandra coming to sit next to him, both of them placing comforting hands on his back. Just that one memory that he forgot, buried so deep in the back of his mind, rips open the wound of his mother’s death anew. Brings him that one step closer to the woman he nearly has no memories of besides her dying moment. But now, now there’s a sliver of bright colours tucked in with the grey. A memory to cherish. Gavriel comes closer, hesitantly placing a soothing hand on Aedion’s shoulder, thumb stroking the muscle there.  
After a few minutes he regains his breath, looking at the cake and releasing a hazardous laugh. His fathers hand is a steady presence, a smooth balm over the fresh scar torn open on the inside.

“Shit,” Aedion chokes, wiping at his eyes, “I couldn’t find anything to give you. I’m sorry, I’m just…” he shakes his head and places it back in his hands.

“Aedion,” Gavriel laughs quietly, squeezing his shoulder, “it’s fine. Just pay for lunch next time; you eat like a beast.”

That earns laughs, even from Aedion himself, the sound shaking and muffled by a sob but there. It takes another few minutes for him to regain his composure, a few members in the room tuning away to allow for privacy while he's comforted. It takes a few deep breaths to rein in the tears, to shove them down for later where he can mourn properly in private.

“Would you like to cut the cake?” Evangeline asks, passing him a knife.

“Oh, I don’t need to cut it,” Aedion laughs, wiping at his eyes and taking the knife. “I’m eating all of it. I eat like a beast, remember? Get your own cakes.”

It earns a few laughs, cries of displeasure and a whack on the chest, but it’s worth it.

~~~

It’s worth it hours later when he watches Gavriel place his own stone on the pile that Aedion has accumulated over the years.

“Thank you,” Gavriel mumbles quietly. “He is still here today, so thank you.”

The Lion turns around to slowly walk next to his son, his steps as heavy as Aedion's had been when he walked around to lay fresh stones upon all the graves, adding to the piles. The Lion freezes at one particular grave, where a stone has the symbol of a swan attached into it. Where the pile is larger then the others, a few stones and some medium ones gathered together, flowers and moss growing around them.  
It's hard, for Aedion, to watch his father blink tears out of his eyes at the makeshift grave Aedion had created for his mother as a child.  
The first of many, to adorn this clearing he saved foley for himself and those he had loved and cherished.

“Thank you for coming,” Aedion says once Gavriel returns to his side.

They take a moment to stare at the rocks in the clearing, moonlight shining down on them. It hits Aedion, suddenly, the number of new rocks he’s had to lay on new graves. The way so many new burials and stone offerings have been given to the honourable fallen soldiers.  
All who he knew by name.  
Even his mother's pile has grown to a new hight, the moss and flowers climbing higher and wider than ever.

“Well,” Aedion ignores the way his voice cracks, “I guess I’ve stolen a hell of a lot of stones over the years, huh?”

A strong arm wraps around his shoulder, pulling him tight against Gavriel’s side. His father holds him close, not commenting on his weak quip, or the new tracks making their way down Aedion’s face. Some may fall down Gavriel's own, the Lion's eyes not leaving the grave dedicated to the woman he once loved.  
Too many stones. Too many stones for someone to carry for ten years. To lay down at the grave of his own mother and friends.

"Would you like to see it?" Gavriel asks, voice hoarse. "Where your mother was buried?"

Aedion denies the fact that he sniffles, blinking tears out of his eyes. "I've never seen it. I've just... they sent me here right away."

"We can go," Gavriel tries to steady his own voice, pulling his son close as he closes his eyes. "We can go, and say goodbye."

And thank you, for all that she gave.

Both of them lose track of how long they stand there, Gavriel keeping Aedion pressed against him. Half in reassurance to Aedion and half in reassurance to himself. In reassurance that Aedion is safe, that he is alive, that they have time.

He doesn’t know how to tell Aedion that the time his son saved for him is the only gift he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments or feedback appreciated!


	3. Words, Drowning, Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _
> 
> He feels Aedion’s jaw clench and unclench against his shoulder. “You’re a man of honour, and your son is seen as and called a whore. It’s not exactly wrong in every aspect either.”  
> _
> 
> Gavriel learns of a different piece of Aedion's past, torn between taking action or listening to his son's wishes. The Lion, a male of honour, needs to find some way to stand by his son without roaring at everyone in sight.
> 
>  
> 
> (TRIGGER WARNINGS: implied sexual abuse, as well as implied non-consensual intercourse. Not graphic, but stated and there. Please take care in reading if any of these may effect you emotionally.)

6.

It started with drooping eyelids, and loosely crossed arms. Gavriel watches across the room and Aedion’s position slips into a looser and looser position, Lysandra clearly also noticing, going to stand next to him supportively. She almost seems to prop him up, just standing next to his side and nudging him ever so slightly to stay awake. It takes all of Gavriel’s will-power not to walk over to his son and gently leading him out of the room to a bed, knowing that it would not only disrupt the meeting but Aedion will surely not appreciate being treated like a child in such a way.

Even though he had no real need to come to this meeting at all.

It’s clear how tired everyone is, yet more and more strain has been falling upon his son’s shoulders, tensing when Aelin mentions that different lords of Terrasen and Adarlan will be coming to visit the palace. It’s true that the thought fills them all with dread, knowing that the old leaders of both countries aren’t exactly happy with relinquishing control to their new queen, Aelin, and king, Dorian, but with Aedion’s there’s something different. There’s trepidation there, a strange emotion flickering in his eyes as he hears some of their names. Other names seem to do that to his son as well. It’s random, just a few names of certain officials thrown out there that may cause his son to stiffen, and on one occasion flush and clench his jaw in anger.

So since learning of the lord’s arrivals Aedion has taken it upon himself to work to the brink. Even Lysandra has muttered to Gavriel and Aelin at one point how late he returns to bed and how early he rises.

She doesn’t mention the nightmares. Gavriel doesn’t need her to; he remembers Aedion’s mumbling, his occasional thrashing and gasping for breaths, his complete helplessness as he’s trapped in his own mind.

Watching it was one of the most terrible things Gavriel’s had to endure as a parent so far.

As soon as the meeting is over he makes his way over to Aedion, gently grabbing his elbow. His son immediately turns to smile at him, his eyes heavy and foggy. Gavriel remembers the same look in his son’s eyes after their trip to Rosamel, the morning after their camping trip and the day after their visit to the graves. The tell-tale signs of fatigued is there.

“Would you like to take a walk in the park with me?” Gavriel murmurs.

Lysandra sends him a grateful look. He doesn’t deserve it; he’s sure any conversation they have which involves Aedion relaxing will end in the opposite.

“Alright,” Aedion nods, squeezing Lysandra’s hand before following Gavriel.

They enter the gardens, Gavriel watching Aedion tussle with Fleetfoot for a moment before they continue on. He waits until they’re near a secured spot, all guards far away enough that they won’t be able to hear their conversation.

“How have you been?” Gavriel asks, examine Aedion.

Snorting, his son pushes a branch away from his face. “You literally see me every day.”

“That doesn’t mean I know how you are,” Gavriel probes, smiling gently.

“I’m fine,” Aedion’s lips twitch up into a smile, his golden skin a little lack in colour.

‘I’m fine.’

Lysandra said that he would say those words. That it’s what he tells her every time she wakes up after he jolts awake, disturbing her from her slumber and then giving no explanation to his laboured breathing or need to suddenly leave the room.

“You’ve been tense ever since we learnt that some of the lords and their higher-ups are coming,” Gavriel murmurs, keeping his voice low. “Is there a reason behind that?”

“I’m fine,” Aedion repeats, exasperated, then catches his father’s look. “It’s nothing that I can’t handle, trust me.”

Gavriel’s brows furrow. “But you’ve been having nightmares again.”

“Nightmares are nightmares,” Aedion grins wickedly. “They’re not real, and they never again will be.”

He walks off back towards the palace, leaving Gavriel to contemplate his strange usage of words.

~~~

“You have one rude child.”

“Fenrys,” Gavriel sighs, browsing the library shelves, “I keep telling you that if Aedion, or anyone for that matter, insults you to your face it’s because-“

“Not that,” Fenrys scowls, waving a hand in dismissal, leaning against a table. “He keeps avoiding the lords and past commanders and generals of Terrasen and Adarlan. As soon as they arrived this morning he practically bolted out of the room. He’s one of Terrasen’s greatest generals; it’ll send a bad message to them.”

Gavriel pauses, turning back to look at Fenrys. “You have never once cared about anything like that. I specifically remember you once purposefully avoiding a meeting with a general and king.”

“It’s not that I’m worried about,” Fenrys scowls, then lowers his voice. “Boyo looked like he was going to be sick. He’s been working himself to the bone in training ever since, and hasn’t stopped once. He even sparred with me, but just kept jumping to his feat every time he was knocked down. He’s wearing himself to the bone.”

Turning around fully, Gavriel allows a book to slip back into place. “What? Is he there now?”

“I don’t know,” Fenrys shrugs, face warped with uncertainty. “He may have gone out into the city, or gone riding. Either that or he’s still beating the shit out of the training dummies in the rings.”

“Thank you,” Gavriel nods his head, turning to leave.

“Gavriel,” Fenrys calls back his attention. “The commanders of one of the lords asked for where Aedion was specifically. He said he knew Aedion back from when the war first started. Apparently he had a hand in Aedion’s training, along with a few others. A lot of the Adarlan commanders knew of him.”

“What are they like?” Gavriel asks quietly.

“Some seem to be good men,” Fenrys darkens, his mood going against his usual character. “Many of the leaders from Adarlan did what they did on the basis of the king’s orders, or were in cahoots with Aedion and the rebels.”

He knows it’s a serious conversation, but Gavriel can’t fight down the swell of pride in his chest at the mention of how his son, from the moment he was thirteen years old and onwards, was able to sew treason and rebellion in an army and men belonging to the king he tricked.  
Liar, trickster and deceiver indeed. Gavriel couldn’t be prouder.

“Some of them, though,” Fenrys narrows his eyes, drawing back Gavriel’s attention. “Some of them appeared almost too casual when they asked for Aedion, and too disappointed when we said he wasn’t there. They were some of the ones a little older then Aedion, but not by much. Both male and female. Both equally off.”

“Right,” Gavriel turns. “I’ll go speak to him. Thank you, Fenrys.”

It’s a short walk to the training rings, Gavriel looking through a few of them before he finds Aedion standing in the middle of a circle of gravel lined by small stones, furiously beating a figure made up of straw on the outside and tough materials on the inside.  
Two are missing heads, the third looking as though it’s middle has been torn apart.  
The fourth Aedion is currently working on doesn’t appear to be in better shape. His son twists on his feet, moments fluid and easy with sweat gleaming on his skin as he delivers kick and punch one after another onto the dummy. Gavriel notices how their training has succeeded in making focus more on defending his middle, his defence their always one of his weakest points.

“Aedion,” Gavriel calls out.

His son doesn’t hear him, Aedion’s face twisted into one of pure fury as he growls and snarls at the dummy, a punch landing on the head and causing it to tear off.  
Well then. Dummy number four suffers the same fate as dummer number one and two.

“Aedion,” Gavriel calls out louder, walking forward this time as well.

The training circles are partially under shade, the veranda high above their heads allowing plenty of sun shine to fall upon them, only one or two shadows from the beams stripping the ground.

Pushing his hair out of his eyes Aedion approaches Gavriel, smirking easily. “Want to train?”

Gavriel can’t help the small smile that appears with the easy invitation. “No, it’s about the Adarlan and Terrasen officials that have arrived.”

He can see it, the exact moment when Aedion’s smile becomes forced, becomes a lie. He doesn’t know why it’s so easy for him to pick out the tell-tale signs of a lie on his son when so many others have failed. It’s the way the right corner fo Aedion’s mouth dips, and the sheen in his bizarre eyes dim, much like a sun being overshadowed by a cloud.

“I know,” Aedion nods, “they arrived this morning. Have you met them yet?”

“No.”

There’s a flicker of relief in Aedion’s eyes. It suddenly occurs to Gavriel that Aedion was the one who recommended him to find old texts from the library that morning instead of attending the meeting, assuring him that the presence of too many former cadre would appear threatening.  
He’s yet to speak to a single one of the visitors, and from Aedion’s reaction that’s a cause of relief.

“Aedion,” Gavriel gazes at his son, “is there something you’re not telling me? If it’s about nightmares or anything at all then please don’t hesitate to say something.”

It takes physical strength for Aedion not to step away from Gavriel, that strangely soft look of what he guesses is pity in those golden orbs makes his stomach churn. “I’m f-“

“Please don’t say fine,” Gavriel cuts him off, predicting his next words perfectly. “Has it been nightmares?”

“We all get nightmares,” Aedion gives him a flat look. “I can handle them.”

“Aedion, you’re right,” Gavriel’s voice, as always, is a calm and steady balm. “Even I get them.”

“Then why don’t you talk about them, or speak out every time something is wrong?” Aedion raises a brow at his father’s silence. “Exactly. Everyone’s hurting, Gavriel. Just let me deal with my shit and believe me when I say I can handle it.”

He follows his son back into the ring, helping pick up discarded pieces of the dummy. “My nightmares are about when I go through the gate.”

Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Aedion freeze in the middle of picking up an arm, his son’s head tilt towards him ever so slightly.

“Of when you followed me.”

~~~

There’s black blood. Black blood everywhere; in his hair, his mouth, his nose and even his nods damn eyes. The stench attacks his senses, fogging his head to the point he nearly collapses from it alone.

But the gate has been closed.

Aedion, Aedion, Aedion.

He was so pale, so pale and obviously injured in the arm. Gavriel already heard of how he stood against a Valg prince. His son, his cub.

Aedion, Aedion, Aedion.

His son, who Gavriel has now left on the other side of those walls. Already the bodies are piling up around him, and at this rate he may be able to grant his son more time.

Aedion, Aedion, Aedion.

Twenty four years old is too gods-damn young to die. He sees the fear in his sons eyes, then witnesses it being conquered by bravery and determination.

He can’t let something as precious, as strong, as that die.

Aedion, Aedion, Aedion.

He can hear his son screaming from above. Will his son miss him, or will Aedion be glad that the male who had the privilege, the honour, of knowing then abandoning his mother is dead?  
The worst mistake he ever made in his immortal life.  
He could have held him. He could have held his son when he was still small enough to fit in Gavriel’s hand, when he was still learning about how cruel the world is.  
Gavriel could have saved him from that cruelty, prolonged it to a later age. He could have tucked Aedion against his side and protected him there, taught him how to fight, celebrated Aedion’s first ever birthday with him…  
He doesn’t even know the day of his own sons birth.  
Maybe he isn’t a male of honour, if he couldn’t even have been bothered to learn the answer to that question in all the weeks he spent with Aelin. He could have learnt so much.  
The answer to that question, along with others. He has no idea what his son’s favourite colour is, what his past times include, where his favourite spots in Terrasen are or what Aedion even likes to eat.  
He knows nothing of his legacy, and he never will.  
But his legacy, his son, will still live. Will carry on a small part of Gavriel in this world just as he carries on a small part of his mother.

Aedion, Aedion, Aedion.

It’s a chant, it’s what’s driven him to participate in defending this city, in clawing his way through this hell-hole. It’s what sparks his blood.

Aedion, Aedion, Aedion.

He feels the valg claws, claws of the last soldier left, sink into his chest and neck, about to sink in deeper to tear out his throat.

Aedion, Aedion, Aedion.

He raises his own sword, ready to deflect-

Aedion. Aedion. Aedion standing in front of him, his sword plunged into the valg warrior.

So fast. His son must have had to have moved so fast to get to Gavriel in time…

But not fast enough to avoid another warrior, who comes up to him as his back is turned.

Aedion. Aedion. Aedion.

His son’s eyes widen, staring at Gavriel in shock, blood beginning to trickle from his lips as he falls to his knees.

Aedion.

Aedion.

Aedion.

~~~

Gavriel knows those last few moments aren’t how it goes. That Aedion killed the last valg warrior surrounding them instead of pushing him away, that he immediately dragged Gavriel in to be quickly patched up and healed, his wounds just deep enough to scar. Every moment of the dream, every point, is a clear retelling of his memory and emotions of the event.  
Then Aedion dies, just at the end.  
Every time, in a new way.  
A warped reality of what really happened.  
And there’s nothing Gavriel can do to save him, his son brilliantly risking his life for Gavriel, only to pay the brutal price.

And his son, Aedion, is still staring at him, as if waiting for him to continue.

Maybe Gavriel doesn’t have a right to ask Aedion to explain his dreams when he can barely bare to think of his own.

“You could have died,” Gavriel chooses to say instead. “When you went over the wall for me. That is what I dream; every moment is exactly how the event happened, until you somehow die at the end.”

He feels his sons eyes burning into him, so he turns around. Aedion has the head of the training dummy clenched in his hands, face strangely closed off as he examines Gavriel.

“You don’t need to tell me what you dream of,” Gavriel says softly, walking forward to place his hands on Aedion’s shoulders. “Just please, Aedion, please say something if it all begins to become too much. I’ve worked with too many warriors whom have become trapped in their own minds and nightmares. Even just sit with me, if you need to, if you want some kind of contact. We won’t have to talk. Just please go to me, to someone, to anyone, if you’re beginning to drown. Don’t wait until you can’t breath anymore.”

Aedion gives a single nod, throat bobbing.

“Good,” Gavriel removes his hands after a moment, leaving them for a second longer then necessary to cement his presence. “Do you need help picking up the… Good gods, Aedion, how many of these have you torn apart?”

Aedion’s lips twitch into a smile. “In truth this is the third time I’ve had to replace them.”

Gavriel shakes his head. “We need to find something sturdier. Fenrys, Rowan and Vaughan have all been having the same issue.”

“Believe me,” Aedion snorts, “I know. Fenrys was walking around with one of the heads yesterday, asking people how you were supposed to reattach them. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that you can’t and that he’d killed it.”

Chuckling, Gavriel drops his hand-full of limbs and straw into a bucket on the edge of the small-stone ring. “I was wondering why so many people were looking at him strangely. Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“I will, soon,” Aedion rolls a shoulder, slowly stretching his arm out.

“Come eat with me,” Gavriel says, the offer light and easy. “You can keep me company and we can try to think of a sturdier material to make these things out of.”

“Metal,” Aedion suggests without missing a beat.

“I keep telling you and Aelin that putting metal plates under the straw so that Rowan and Fenrys punch them isn’t going to be funny-“

~~~

Lunch was nice. He was able to sit with Aedion, talk to him, hear his son laugh at old stories about the cadre that Gavriel never realised could be such fun retelling. Aedion had no hesitation tearing into the pulled salted and seasoned pork the kitchen prepared for them, stuffing it into buttered rolls and devouring the meal. Gavriel chuckles at his son’s enthusiasm.

“Hungry?” Gavriel asks, biting into his own roll.

Aedion nods, placing a hand over his mouth as he swallows. “Pulled and salted pork with actual rolls were hard to get in the war camps, since most of the time it was beef, rations or just poorly cooked meat. This,” Aedion swallows, shaking his head, “is fantastic.”

Shaking his head, Gavriel watches Aedion inhale another roll, unable to hold back a smile. “You know that you have time to chew, yes?”

Aedion ducks his head, chewing the roll in a smaller manner. “Right. Aelin’s calling me on that all the time.”

“One day you’ll choke,” Gavriel stacks the empty plates.

“I think I’ll be fine,” Aedion snorts, brushing crumbs off his pants as he stands. “If I haven’t died yet I won’t from pulled pork.”

“Yes,” Gavriel deadpans, “because you’re oh-so immune to pulled pork.”

A burst of laughter surges forward from Aedion, Gavriel smiling widely at the way Aedion closes his eyes as he laughs, nearly doubling over.

“Oh, gods,” Aedion chuckles, straightening. “The way you said that…”

“Five-hundred year old men can be funny,” Gavriel smiles, clapping him on the back. “What do you have on for the rest of the day?”

Something flickers in Aedion’s eyes before being washed away. “Aelin said I wouldn’t be needed in most of the meetings between her, Dorian and the generals and lords so I won’t be attending.”

There’s something wrong with that. Aedion is the general of the Bane, and one of the most-known warriors in Erilea at the moment. His opinion should be highly valued at such a meeting, even when it’s nothing but a check up to continue to repair relations between the nations. Aedion worked with and has been trusted by both sides, but perhaps it was his very betrayal to the king of Adarlan that would now make his presence such a strain.  
But Gavriel knows that if either of them had a choice Aelin and Aedion would always prefer to have the other at their side.  
So what is it about these people that’s repelling his son?

They walk down the hallway, sunlight filtering in through the windows. It’s a light, casual stroll, until Gavriel spots some of their guests further up, leaning against a window ledge. Three young men, perhaps only a few years older than Aedion himself. All of them wearing military uniforms with Adarlan’s crest, most likely trained in the army around the same time Aedion was.  
Speaking of Aedion, his back seems to straighten just that extra inch, deliberately looking away from the young men.

Gavriel’s torn. On one hand simply walking past them would be rude, but on the other hand his son is so clearly trying to avoid them.

Being a parent is complicated.

“So,” one of the young men drawls as they walk past, “I wonder if the Whore of Adarlan spreads his legs for the queen as widely as he did for us. Do you cry and beg for her like a little whore too?”

For a moment it doesn’t register with Gavriel what they’ve said or who they’ve said it to, his mind going blank as he tries to process the words. Aedion himself appears to be unaffected in appearance, expression not changing at all. But Gavriel notices the flash of shame in his eyes, and the way the rhythm in his steps has the smallest of changes before rightening again.  
It finally dawns on him who they’re talking about.  
And he sees red.

It’s been years since this kind of rage has flowed through him, shattering through all of his defences.

Before even Gavriel himself even realises it he has the young man pinned against the window, his friends all sprawled on the ground, growling as he presses the man against it with enough force that the glass begins to creak. In the back of his mind he’s aware of Aedion tugging on his arm, yelling at him to let the man go, fear riddling his voice.

He can’t stop. He can’t stop thinking back to Rosamel, to how he once awoke to Aedion mumbling a string of words that he has yet to bring up, deciding that they were too vague to explore.  
But now those words begin to make more sense. With what this man said, with what he called Aedion-

“Do not touch my cub,” Gavriel snarls, keeping his voice to a low growl as he leans closer towards the man. “If I see you talking to him, near him or even looking at him so help me I will show you the horrors I learnt while under Meave’s command.”

He allows his golden eyes to shine, for his canines to flash. He knows what the man sees; the unforgiving wrath of the Lion.

Let the bastard fear him. Let them want to run and scream as he hunts them down. Aedion’s hands on his arm are the only things stopping Gavriel’s from tearing out his guts right now. With that he drops the man to the ground, watching him scramble to his feet. He sends Aedion one last look, but the growl erupting from Gavriel sends him and the two other males running down the hall. He’ll have to discuss it with Dorian and Aelin, see to it that they’re imprisoned-

“What the fucking hell?”

Jerking, Gavriel turns to look at Aedion. His son stares at him with something akin to horror, his hands trembling. Then Aedion, with jerking movements, pivots on his heel and runs.

The shock and anger keeps Gavriel rooted to the spot for a moment, before he snaps out of it and starts chasing after his son purely out of the instinct to follow when someone flees.  
By the look on Aedion’s face following is probably the right move to make. He watches his son gently push past people, trying his hardest to avoid them yet running like a male with hounds on his heels.  
Aedion swerves around corners, ducking out of sight a few times and forcing Gavriel to rely on his sense of smell alone. They rumble down staircases, through corridors, and Gavriel can see the pure panic quickening Aedion’s breaths until he’s nearly slamming into walls in his haste to escape, rebounding off them to continue to flee.

Soon they’re bursting through doors, back at the training rings, Aedion leaping into a circle, only for the tip of a foot to catch on a rock and for Aedion to go skidding across the gravel. Wincing at the marks on his sons elbows and knees Gavriel swears under his breath, skidding to a stop next to Aedion, who’s still trembling and, to Gavriel’s horror, scrambling to his feet and away from him.

“Aedion,” Gavriel holds up his hands, “just-“

Shaking his head, Aedion walks back until he hits the wall, wheezing in oxygen and clutching one scrapped elbow with his hand.

“Aedion,” Gavriel takes slow, steady steps forward. “Speak to me. Tell me what that man meant, why you’re so panicked…”

Shaking his head wildly, Aedion begins to curl in on himself, breathing becoming more and more struggled. Finally Gabriel reaches his son, taking one of Aedion’s hands between his own and squeezing it, rubbing it between his calloused palms.

“Aedion,” Gavriel keeps his voice low. “Aedion, sit down, keep your back flat against the wall.”

Again, Aedion shakes his head, seeming adamant on shrinking as far back as possible, bowing over in a way that does little to help his breathing.

“It’s alright,” Gavriel mutters, continuing his administrations. “When I rub my hand up your palm, breath in. When I rub downwards, towards your arms, breath out. Good, just like that. Try breathing in until I reach the tips of your fingers… There you go. Good. Now try also breathing out until I reach your wrist… Excellent, Aedion. That’s it… Just keep breathing.”

It’s painful, to witness the pure panic in Aedion’s expression, to watch a few tears trickle down his cheeks as Aedion is torn between complete frustration over his lack of control over his body and the fear his body is pushing him towards feeling.

“That’s it,” Gavriel murmurs, squeezing Aedion’s hand between his.

It takes another few minutes of the steady contact for Aedion to relax, the shaking slowly rolling to a stop as his mind clears, a splitting headache all that’s left behind. Gavriel keeps his distance but not too far, still gently rubbing his son’s hand between his until he’s sure that Aedion is calmer than before.

“Fuck,” Aedion growls, pulling his hand back to clench it at his chest. “How are you so good at that?”

Gavriel gives a weak laugh. “Years of practice. Sit down, and keep breathing.”

Aedion slowly slides down the wall, closing his eyes and tipping his head to rest against it, brows still furrowed.

“Why did you run?” Gavriel asks, coming to sit next to him.

“I don’t know,” Aedion squeezes his eyes shut tighter. “I just… fuck.”

Gavriel barely refrains from commenting on his language. “Was it how I reacted?”

Aedion’s silence says enough.

“I would never harm you like that Aedion,” Gavriel promises, shame starting to dwell in his gut.

He can barely remember the last time he felt such fury. It was Aedion’s fear that stopped him from killing the bastards right there and then.  
Maybe he could convince Aelin and Dorian to give him five minutes alone with them.  
That’s all he’d need.

“You shouldn’t have done what you did,” Aedion’s voice is still shaky in a way that Gavriel hasn’t heard since their trip to Rosamel.

“And allow them to talk and refer to you that way?” Gavriel growls. “I won’t allow it.”

Aedion snorts. “Then you better get ready to fight half of Terrasen and Adarlan to do it,” he catches Gavriel’s look, and continues on quietly, “I’m Adarlan’s Whore. It’s my main title. I shouldn’t have to explain why.”

Mouth dry, Gavriel ignores the need to sink his claws back in the men in the castle. “Those three men, the one who spoke, did they-“

Aedion’s head sharply turns to him, shame and anger littered in his eyes. “I’m the Whore of Adarlan, alright? Darrow was right when he once told Aelin that I fucked and killed my way to get to the top. Those three men in there aren’t the only ones I’ve laid with, and if you want to beat every person I’ve ever had sex with then you better get ready to take on a whole lot of people, both male and female.”

Swallowing thickly, Gavriel clenches his hands at his sides. “Was it consensual? Not just with those men, but ever?”

Aedion looks away.

“Aedion,” Gavriel’s voice brooks no room for contradictions. “Was it consensual?”

His son’s mouth tightens, his head bowing. “No one kept track of anything at the beginning of the war.”

Gavriel tries. Tries not to look towards his son desperately, or to allow his panic and heartbreak to show. But he can’t help wrapping his arms around Aedion, crushing his son against him, knowing that the position can’t be comfortable with the way Aedion has to twist his torso so his head rests on Gavriel’s shoulder. But his son stays in the hold, stiff and trembling slightly, but he stays, not ripping himself from his father’s arms.

“I didn’t want,” Aedion swallows, eyes closing, “I didn’t want you to think of me the way they all do. You didn’t know. For once someone just _didn’t know_ and I was going to tell you when I was ready but now...”

“It’s been taken from you,” Gavriel murmurs, tightening his arms. “A part of you, of your history, was taken from your grasp and flung into the opening by someone who should have no damn say over it.”

Aedion squeezes his eyes shut tighter, shuddering at his father’s understanding.

“Gods, Aedion,” Gavriel’s voice finally begins to crack. “You’re so young.”

Gavriel is beginning to learn that being a parent means being in constant terror and pain, your heart straining out to your child and hoping every time you learn about some new horror you can simply wipe it away. He can’t erase this, though. He can’t.  
Not with the nightmares he knows Aedion has, not with the way he sees the panic wash over his son, who has faced creatures not even from this world with bravery. Not with the marks that litters his son, both in the forms of physical scars and mental.  
But it wasn’t the man’s words that sent him into a panic and caused him to run. No, it was Gavriel’s reaction to them.  
He needs to hold back his rage. He needs to stay calm and speak to Aedion about this.

“What was it, about what I did that sent you into a panic attack?” Gavriel asks, fighting to keep his voice from trembling, Aedion warm in his arms. “Do you know? Or what was it about the whole thing that you disliked?”

He feels Aedion’s jaw clench and unclench against his shoulder. “You’re a man of honour, and your son is seen as and called a whore. It’s not exactly wrong in every aspect either.”

“Oh, Aedion,” Gavriel whispers, appalled and feeling his stomach churn. “You have no idea how badly I want to be your father. Nothing in the world could change that. Not them, not what you’ve done… Nothing, son.”

Sobs finally swell in Aedion’s throat, over pouring thanks to his fathers hand running up and down his back, encouraging Aedion to give in to the exhaustion and anxiety he’s been feeling since he first heard of the Adarlan officials arrivals. Gavriel just holds him, strong and steady, as Aedion trembles and sobs in his arms. Thank the gods no one comes to this training ring, at the very edge and tucked around the corner.

“I can’t breath anymore,” Aedion chokes through his sobs, eyes shut tight as he buries his head against his father. “I’m sorry. I can’t, I can’t breath anymore, I can’t breath…”

Gavriel holds his son tight, shushing him gently, feeling his own centre shake with grief.

He inhales Aedion’s scent, trying to squash down the urge to find and hurt anyone who’s dared force his son into something he didn’t want, or who flung that title, ‘Adarlan’s Whore’ in his face.  
Instead he just strokes Aedion’s back, occasionally going higher up to brush back the bits of hair he can reach before continuing on in gently soothing his son’s gasping breaths and sobs. Aedion’s hand clench his clothes, holding on with an urgency that convinces Gavriel to practically crush his son against him.

“If you tell Aelin and Dorian they’ll have everyone in power who’s ever done anything to you stripped of their title and punished,” Gavriel murmurs into Aedion’s hair once his breathing has steadied.

Aedion shakes his head, his hair brushing against Gavriel’s neck. “Leave it.”

“Aedion-“

“They’re already weeding out Dorian’s kingdom,” Aedion interrupts. “Most of the people who ever did anything to me in Terrasen are dead now. And those people upstairs weren’t the worst; they just enjoy throwing their favourite title for me in my face.”

“Did they do anything to you without your consent?” Gavriel asks quietly, rage boiling to the surface.

Slowly, Aedion pulls away, rubbing a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”

“Aedion-“

“We were all young, in the war camps, they had seniority in a lot of areas and I needed to move upwards-“

“Did they ever do anything to you that you didn’t want done?” Gavriel drives a command into the question.

Aedion keeps his gaze averted. “I never specifically said no-“

“But did you say yes?”

“No, but-“

“Then it isn’t consensual,” Gavriel growls, his mind set.

Aedion laughs dryly. “There’s a lot of people who would disagree with you.”

“I don’t care,” Gavriel shakes his head. “They should be locked up-“

“We’re not telling Aelin and Dorian, or anyone-“

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not that simple!” Aedion exclaims, running his hands through his hair once again and tugging at it. “Do you... It doesn’t just put them in a bad position, but me. What happened is my business, and I don’t want others knowing that I allowed it to happen! I don’t want them telling anyone what I allowed them to do! If they stand up there on that stand then I have to as well, or at the very least stand in front of people explain what I was unable to prevent.”

That shame is back, plastered across Aedion’s face.

“It could be handled privately,” Gavriel pleads, his chest cracking.

Aedion shakes his head. “It’s just,” his voice cracks, “you have no idea how complicated it is.”

“What are you planning to do?” Gavriel asks quietly.

“Nothing,” there’s something bleak in Aedion’s voice, but it slowly rallies to fire. “Those bastards can fling whatever words they want at me. In the end, I’m the gods damn general of the Bane, and everyone knows I could kick their asses if I wanted. I’ll let them live with that, and keep my head high every time I walk past them. I don’t care what they think of me.”

Another reason as to why Gavriel’s reaction appeared to be such a mistake in Aedion’s eyes. Giving them attention, validation, was as good as giving them victory, as letting them know that the blow reached its target.

“Alright,” Gavriel can barely force the words out, “but if they try anything-“

“Gavriel-“

“I mean it,” he pins his son with a look. “Come straight to me if they do anything, and I mean anything. If they so much as look at you or make you uncomfortable then don’t hesitate.”

He knows there’s a chance Aedion won’t, not with the incredulous look he gives his father and the roll of his eyes. Deciding not to push it Gavriel wraps his arm back around Aedion, pulling him so his son rests against his side, Aedion head tipping down to rest on his shoulder once again.  
Gavriel tries, he really does, to quell his anger. But it bubbles in his stomach, his lion form threatening to tear out of him so he may find those bastards and tear them apart with his claws.  
He just thanks the gods that Aedion talked this time, that he gave some kind of explanation. Maybe now he can aid his son instead Aedion suffering in silence and falling down into his mind.  
It’s the scent of his son’s blood that snaps Gavriel back to attention, reminding him of Aedion’s earlier fall. His son’s body is lax, clearly tired to a certain degree, his eyes half-closed and head resting against his father. But Gavriel winces at the blood on his elbows and knees, at all the pieces of gravel stuck there.

“You need to pick the gravel out of your arms,” Gavriel gently suggests, taking Aedion’s arm in hand, touch light.

“It’s just a scrape,” Aedion looks down, the bloodied knees and elbows barely a scratch in comparison to some of his past injuries.

Gavriel shakes his head, slowly standing and helping Aedion do the same. “We’re tending to those knees and elbows. Come on, I’ll help you pick out the rocks and heal it faster.”

He knows that Aedion is off-kilter, that he’s still truly hurting, at the way that Aedion takes his hands and allows himself to be led to an empty dining hall in silence. He doesn’t comment when Gavriel picks up a medicine box on the way, or complain when his father leads him to sit down at a table and put his legs up on the bench. Instead he just watches as Gavriel helps him pull out small bits of bloody stone, gavriel focusing more on his knees while Aedion works on his arms, treating them with considerable less care then Gavriel. The fact that he is allowing Gavriel to care for him in such a way, to coddle him in a form that he doesn’t done since Rosamel when Aedion was sick, shows that his son is desperate enough to want to be cared for.

It’s nice, but also wrong. His son’s a storm, not this muted cloud with dull eyes. He’d rather that Aedion allows himself to be coddled, or at the very least accepts Gavriel’s attention, when he doesn’t look as though he could shatter. When it’s not under such horrible circumstances.

So instead Gavriel turns his attention back to the task at hand. If Aedion is allowing Gavriel to help him, if it’s something he wants, then that’s all Gavriel can and shall do.

“Don’t just brush it off,” Gavriel chastised, wincing at Aedion’s bloody fingers. “Pick it out or it’ll become irritated.”

“I heal fast.”

“Exactly. Get rid of those stones before you heal over them, and try not to rip your skin anymore than it already is.”

It’s a relief, when Aedion’s mouth begins to twitch up in a small smile. Gavriel can’t help but flash one back, already finished in patching up one knee and moving to the other.

Until footsteps ring down the hall, familiar voices floating up. A single flash of something Gavriel can’t describe passes over Aedion’s face before it settles into neutrality. He takes his legs off the bench, twisting around to sit upright, pulling the med box closer to him as though he may look through it.

As soon as the bastards walk into the dining hall Gavriel’s golden eyes lay on them, following their every move. Aedion sends them all a grin, a smirk, before turning back to the box. Gavriel can smell their fear, watching the lead male settle his eyes on Gavriel.  
Gavriel smiles.  
They quickly glance at the food before trooping back out, trying to keep up appearances. They should be running, with the way Gavriel contemplates how easy it would be to drag them somewhere quiet and secluded.

“Stop it,” Aedion mumbles from next to him, clearly smelling his fathers anger, the volume of it shocking him.

“I warned them,” Gavriel shrugs, relaxing back into his seat. “And technically, I just looked at them.”

“Right,” Aedion sounds unconvinced, expression dry.

But it doesn’t stop him from swinging his legs back up on the bench, tension draining as Gavriel tends to his other knee. Gavriel makes no comment on the safe attention his son so clearly seeks, simply carrying on with his administrations.

Who patched up his sons knees in the war camp? Just how many things did people not keep track of?

How is it possible that this raging storm of a person in front of him can be muted so quickly?

~~~

Gavriel would be lying, if he said he wasn’t participating in Aedion’s mission to avoid all of the officials after the incident. It’s become impossible, to look at all of them and not wonder whether any of them have pinned his son down and hurt him, or coerced him into situations he’d rather avoid.  
The rage that swells is hard to contain when he even hears of them. On one hand he wishes to grip his son in his arms and growl at all of them who dare look in his direction, but on the other hand he wants to growl at all of them who dare look in his direction _and_ rip their throats out.  
What a conundrum.

“Please,” Aedion murmurs quietly, still focused on his food. “Please, just don’t do anything.”

And it’s that plea that soothes the anger immediately, Gavriel simpering at Aedion’s request, his entire being softening as he looks at his son. He knows that he has to exercise restraint, that he has to fight back on those instincts for his son’s sake as to not out Aedion and put him in a difficult position he wishes to avoid. But damn it all to hell if it isn’t difficult to do so with the way Aedion is still clearly tired and stressed.  
Gavriel will try. He will try to help his son in any way he can. He’ll support Aedion as much as he possibly can.

So he sits at the dinner tables, bites his tongue, and pours all his attention quietly towards his son. It’s something he’s wanted to do every since he discovered Aedion’s existence, and if his son wishes to accept attention when he needs it then Gavriel will happily provide.

The sight of his son laughing, smiling, even though they’re both drained, is all that stops Gavriel from shattering the tables.

~~~

“Aedion, I need you to discuss Terrasen’s military stance with Adarlan’s officials.”

Gavriel debates how easy it would be to drag Rowan out of the room, put him aside and then just say he’s in a very, very long meeting for a few days. He watches as Aedion’s skin pales by barely a shade, but he nods, more then prepared to face the officials. It sparks some pride in Gavriel, yet fear quickly over washes it at the thought of his son alone in a room with them.  
He’s no fool. He knows that Aedion could take them all down with little effort, but the idea of his son curled up in a corner, overtaken by a random burst of panic, makes his own chest squeeze impossibly tight. He knows it’s unlikely; Aedion has dealt with males and females like them for years on his own.  
But now Gavriel does not wish for him to be alone.

“I’ll go,” Gavriel offers, stepping forward. “The presence of a previous member of the cadre may help cement their certainty in our military abilities.”

Rowan looks between the two of them, obviously trying to put the pieces together of a puzzle he doesn’t know he has. “Is there something I’m missing?”

Gavriel shakes his head, backing up his son’s denial. Rowan still glances at them suspiciously as they leave, yet asks no more questions.

“If you told him we could take action,” Gavriel murmurs to Aedion as they walk to the meeting room. “You wouldn’t need to specify it was you; you could say what they did but insinuate it was towards someone else.”

Aedion glances at him. “If I do that they deny it was them, or state that I was mistaken and the person wanted it. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but if you really want to support me then please just act normal. Don’t react to the bastards, it’ll just make them keep doing it.”

Gavriel stares at Aedion in slight wonder. “This is the last thing I would expect from you.”

His son smiles grimly. “I’ve had ten years of it. Ten years of listening to people call me a whore, generals and kings, and being able to do nothing about it. Trust me when I say that I’m a lot less kind towards the bastards I can actually punch in the mouth.”

Well, that makes more sense. Much more sense, actually. Gavriel was beginning to doubt that he knew his son at all for a moment there.

They step through the doors, and Gavriel fights down the urge to punch the bastard grinning in a seat.

It’ll be a long few hours.

~~~

“Thank you,” Aedion says once they leave the room. “For you not to react, and for how you treated them like that. Once they go back to Adarlan we won’t have to deal with them, and we can keep our eyes on them from a distance. I’ve had them on a leash for years, and that will only remind them.”

It was difficult. So damn difficult. The two males and the female had said nothing out of place, simply focusing on facts involving the countries, but the way that one man kept smirking at Aedion made Gavriel very nearly roar.

“I’m very proud of how you’ve handled them,” Gavriel says quietly. “Of how you’ve managed to keep them under control for years, rising in ranks to do as much as you can.”

Aedion gives him a small smile, colour returning to his face. Gavriel smiles back, everything soothed by the flash of his teeth.

“Have you said anything to Lysandra?”

He hates to wipe that smile away, but he’s been wondering since his son first gifted the information to him. It would make sense; he and the shifter have a strong bond, even if it’s one they’re still trying to mend. If anyone would be able to sympathise with Aedion, it would be Lysandra.

“She knows,” Aedion hardens, clearly thinking back. “After one of my nightmares we started talking. She doesn’t know which ones of the officials had interactions with me, but she knows the basis of everything that’s happened.”

No wonder the shifter’s been prowling around in ghost leopard form, staying away from all people. If she’s anything like Gavriel she must be close to ripping out the throats of any official that so much as looks at Aedion.  
It’s a relief, to know that he isn’t the only one looking out for his son. That if the male and female bastards try anything when Gavriel isn’t there that a ghost leopard with piercing green eyes will be more than ready to tear them to shreds.

~~~

It’s a relief, when they leave. Dorian’s farewell was more regrettable, but the departure of the Adarlan and Terrasen officials is one that Gavriel doesn’t regret. Aedion himself immediately lightened once they left, his wicked grin slipping back into place only three days afterwards once their essence was well and truly gone from the palace.

“Would you like to train?” Gavriel asks, catching Aedion in the early morning. “Or go to the markets?”

The answering grin Aedion sends is light, much lighter then it had been for the last week. “I would have thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

Gavriel shakes his head. “Show me what your favourite place in the city is.”

So many things to be done. So many actions to be held back. So many roars to swallow down while he wipes away the tears of his cub, at once torn between following his wishes and hunting down his prey. He knows that one day Aedion will seek revenge for himself, that much is obvious.  
He’ll enjoy raging next to his storm of a son. He’ll enjoy proving that Aedion has inherited more than his smile, that he’s inherited something else.  
The wrath and pride of the Lion. The ability to smile, to play the long game, and allow your prey to stay one step ahead.  
Before you leap in front of them, and take revenge.  
There are many things Gavriel can forgive within his long lifetime, but not the harming of his son. Not the way people so insignificant, so overshadowed by Aedion, were able to bring him down in panic and enjoy it.  
Maybe he is allowing his rage, his instincts, to jump ahead of him, but he won’t stand for the way Aedion shuddered and sobs against his chest, fulling believing Gavriel could hold any kind of shame towards having him as a son.

“Are you coming?” Aedion asks, breaking the small silence, “or are you going to stand there?”

It takes a moment, Gavriel taking in every detail of his son, his son, in wonder before nodding.

“I’m coming,” Gavriel smiles, following. “Don’t be in such a rush; we have plenty of days ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always any requests and feedback is really appreciated! I'm basically taking nearly any request I get at this point, so if there's anything you'd like between the Lion and his cub let me know! 
> 
> And thank you to everyone who reads and supports this fan fic!


	4. Dinner, Lions, Penguins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four is up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So I tried to include as many of the requests as I could into this chapter, such as family time, Gavriel telling Aedion he loves him and further telling Aedion he's not ashamed of him (as well as major cadre bonding)! There were some requests I couldn't fit since I wanted to post this soon, but they'll be in the next chapter!
> 
> Chapter five will include: the request for expansion on what Aedion said in Rosamel, the request for Gavriel to help Aedion once he finds his son drunk from trying to drown his sorrows, Aedion showing Gavriel his scars and Aedion having flashbacks to his past! 
> 
> I'm sorry I couldn't fit these requests into this chapter, but I swear they will be in chapter five! All the requests and support I am getting is fantastic and I love writing them for you guys, so just give a prompt or scene you'd like and I'll try to fit it in!
> 
> Enjoy chapter four!

7.

“Would you like to have dinner with us?”

Gavriel pauses in folding paper, halfway through flattening a crease. Evangeline sits across from him on the table, startlingly serious as she looks at him expectantly, folded paper in her own hands. Gavriel had promised to help her learn how to make paper animals, a skill he picked up from a foreign country, understanding Evangeline’s joy of learning new skills. So far they’ve made paper crowns, straw boats and other creations, Evangeline readily taking up any challenge he faces her with.  
Next, he’s thinking of teaching her how to make a raft. And maybe Aedion as well; you’re never too young or old to earn.

“I’d love to come to dinner,” Gavriel smiles brightly, fondness bursting in his chest at the way she smiles back. “In the city or here?”

“The city,” Evangeline waves her hand. “Lysandra says she’s bored and wants Aedion to take us to one of his favourite places.”

“Of course I’ll come,” Gavriel fixes a small fold. “When is it?”

“In an hour.”

Pausing, Gavriel looks at her, Evangeline solely focused on the small crane in her hand. “I see. And, I have to ask this, do they both know I’m coming?”

Looking confronted, Evangeline places her crane down, frowning. “Of course. Aedion wanted to ask you himself, I overheard him and Lysandra, but he was worried you’d be busy or wouldn’t want to come.”

At once there’s a flare of happiness at his son, and exasperation.

“I’ll never be too busy to come out to dinner,” Gavriel fondly tugs one of her braids with a gentle touch. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“That’s what I said,” Evangeline rolls her eyes. “For adults you all overthink things quite often.”

Chuckling, Gavriel nods. “It appears we all do. Thank the gods we have you here to decipher everything.”

She smiles brightly, going back to her crane. Sorting through the colourful stacks of square paper Gavriel points out a needed fold, already contemplating whether or not the large lake behind the city, a little ways into the forest, would be a good area for raft building.

~~~

“Why is Gavriel here?” Aedion whispers to Evangeline, sitting down next to Lysandra and across from her, Gavriel absent to order.

“Lysandra said I could invite him,” Evangeline frowns.

Brows raising, Aedion slowly turns to shifter, who simply sips at her drink.

“I like Gavriel,” Lysandra offers as explanation, raising a brow. “Besides, I don’t know what he said but you haven’t had as many nightmares since-“

  
“Thank you, Lysandra,” Aedion gently cuts her off, eyes flicking to Evangeline, who studies her menu while muttering under her breath. “But you couldn’t have told me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Lysandra shrugs. “You went out with my uncle and I last week. I was thinking that when he comes back from his meeting with the traders we could all go out to dinner or lunch together, the five of us.”

“That sounds nice,” Aedion stares at her. “Lovely. But you could have told me that Gavriel was coming instead of me meeting him in the bathroom? I had no idea why he was there!”

“That was just bad luck,” She hisses back, shrugging. “And, as I’ve already said, it was supposed to be a surprise!”

“Stop arguing!” Evangeline scowls at them, placing down her menu. “Gavriel’s here so just enjoy it! And you wanted him to come; you were just too embarrassed to ask.”

Aedion settles in his chair at that, glaring at Lysandra as she smirks.

Rejoining them at the table, Gavriel takes a seat next to Evangeline, smiling once he realises that she’s folding the napkin into the shape of an animal. He bows down to help her during a few intervals, Aedion and Lysandra chatting across from them, occasionally stopping to peer at what they’re doing. Soon a little red rabbit sits on the table, Evangeline grinning brightly.

“So that’s why paper animals have been filling everyone’s offices,” Aedion grins, leaning forward. “Aelin’s been bragging about the multicoloured animals littering her office all week. She’s quite proud of having more than Rowan.”

Evangeline beams brightly, Gavriel following suit. The pure amount of crafts that have been littering the castle as of late is outstanding.

“They’re quite good,” Lysandra admits. “Do you know how to make a ghost leopard?”

“Gavriel’s the best at making the more difficult animals,” Evangeline smiles brightly at the old man. “He can make the best leopards, wolves and penguins.”

“Penguins?” Aedion’s eyes strangely lights up. “I read about them. Do you know what they look like from drawings or have you seen any?”

“I once saw some when travelling in an arctic land,” Gavriel explains, remembering the wobbling little birds that crowded around him. “They were funny little things, very curious.”

His son’s entire face lights up. “Arctic birds that can swim but now fly. I heard they act like children.”

“They do in a way,” Gavriel gives a tiny smile, trying to fight the twitch of his lips. “Do you like them?”

“Ever since I first read about them,” Aedion grins widely. “Penguins, and hippos. Although I’ve actually seen hippos.”

“And here I was thinking ghost leopards are your favourite,” Lysandra rolls her eyes, yet smiles herself.

“Oh,” Aedion chuckles, smirking, lowering his eyes at her, “trust me, they are.”

Rolling her own eyes, Evangeline turns back to Gavriel. “Can you teach me how to make penguins next? You make them perfectly, and Aedion always loves the funny little animals you teach me to make. He keeps them all on the dresser by the bed; both mine and yours.”

Darting his eyes to the side Gavriel raises his brows at his son, who is blinking at something to the right, not quite looking at his father or Evangeline. Lysandra, on the other hand, grins wickedly, sending them both a wink.

“I’ll teach you as many funny little animals as you want,” Gavriel promises. “You pick up things like this very quickly.”

Evangeline nods, sitting straight with pride. “Thank you, you’re a very good teacher. Aedion’s good at things like this too; he makes the best flower crowns.”

“Really?” Gavriel turns to his son, who shifts in his seat.

“When we were traveling Aedion would make them from wild flowers for me,” Evangeline explains, “and now he gets my favourite flowers from the garden and sometimes surprises me with them.”

“You’ll have to teach me, then,” Gavriel smiles at his son, “in exchange for a penguin.”

A smile twitches wider on Aedion’s face. “In exchange for a penguin.”

The food is simple, not overly complicated, yet the spices and herbs have been handled in such a way that the flavours of the meet and sauce burst on the tongue. All the bread is light and fluffy and salted, some slices containing olives that give a burst of flavour.  
Needless to say they tear into the food like wolves (or a lion and leopard in Gavriel and Lysandra’s case).

“How often do you come here?” Gavriel asks Aedion once the chef comes out to greet him, exchanging a few friendly words before leaving again.

“This place has been open for years,” Aedion swallows. “It’s lamb is the best since it’s so fresh and they gain the best assortments of spices and herbs. It’s one of my favourite meals.”

“I see why,” Gavriel takes a bite of the meat, the tastes rolling over his tongue as the soft meet falls apart in his mouth.

The rest of the meal goes smoothly, conversation flowing easily between all of them. Evangeline listens to Aedion’s suggestions and orders a dessert consisting of a thick slab of custard with crispy pastry on the top and layering of pastry on the bottom soaked in what smells to be some kind of almond and citrus syrup.

“Manners,” Lysandra snorts, watching Aedion pull a top layer of pastry off the dish, shoving the square into his mouth as it drips syrup.

“There’s just so many ways to eat it,” Aedion shrugs, smirking as Evangeline copies his method. “I like to eat some of the top bits first since they’re the crunchiest.”

Rolling her eyes, Lysandra dips back down into her cake, Gavriel doing the same with his rolled pastry cradling vanilla and chocolate custard in the centre.

“Can we go see the markets?” Evangeline asks once they finish, prepared to pay. “It’s always lovely at this time.”

Indeed, the sun is just beginning to set, glazing the city in pinks and gold that will soon turn to indigo. Lanterns are turning on in the markets, people both closing up stalls yet turning on window lights. It’s a treat, to walk through the city and see the actions of the persevering and resilient people.

“I don’t see why not,” Aedion easily agrees. “We can walk back to the palace through the markets and take in the sights.”

It’s a pleasant walk, Aedion lifting Evangeline onto his back at one point to dramatically save her from the puddles, exclaiming that they can’t have the smallest person in the group drowning. Watching them yell and squabble, Evangeline booming out her loud laughter as she gently pounds at Aedion while he carries her around, places smiles on both Gavriel’s and Lysandra’s faces.

Giggling, Evangeline allows Aedion to lower her to the ground, flushed and out of breath. “That was fun! It’s like when you throw me!”

Lysandra turns to her young ward. “Throw you? When does Aedion ever-“

“Lysandra look, boots!” Aedion chastely pulls her towards a shop window, black fur-trimmed winter boots on display.

“Could you cary me?” Evangeline asks Gavriel, examining him as if contemplation his climbing worth.

“Of course,” Gavriel replies, and easily allows the young girl to climb onto his back as she did with Aedion, holding onto her legs as she loops her arms around his neck.

Such an overwhelming wave of protectiveness and affection for the girl washes over him that it snatches away Gavriel’s breath for a moment, returning again with splendid warmth as she rests her cheek against his shoulder. Lysandra and Aedion run around together just a little further up the street, Aedion twirling Lysandra around, the moonlight beginning to shine off the cobblestones. He watches his son, who’s golden features are highlighted with the dim glow, dip and twirl Lysandra, who’s pale skin and glossy black hair shine in the light.

He’ll hold this moment close to his heart, for however long he has left.

“You really love Aedion, don’t you,” Evangeline whispers, cheek warm through Gavriel’s shirt and jacket.

“I do,” he swallows thickly, the words seeming like a silent mid-night promise. “I love him more than I thought it was possible to love anything. That’s what it can be like when you become a parent; you just feel this overwhelming devotion to this precious thing that holds a piece of you, that’s a product of you.”

“You should tell him you love him,” Evangeline suggests just as quietly. “Just tell him outright. I think it would make him really happy. I’m glad to have you as a grandfather.”

“Maybe I will tell him,” Gavriel watches his son dip his love one more time, a smile adorning his features and blue eyes bright as he does so. “And I have to say that you are a magnificent granddaughter.”

He feels her smile against his shoulder, and it’s all he can do to keep from spinning the young girl around in his arms and throwing her in the air.

They continue their walk, Evangeline deciding to descend from Gavriel so she may walk and talk with everyone without glancing over Gavriel’s shoulder. It’s not long before they pass an area that Gavriel usually frequents, filled with stores that he likes to visit to at once complete errands and find paper with different patterns for Evangeline and him to use.

“Excuse me? Lord Gavriel?”

Gavriel smiles at the woman in her early-forties, brown hair yet to grey and hazel eyes bright, that’s stepped in front of him. It’s easy to recognise her as a female that serves at one of his favourite shops, Lucia, always eager to aid him in the finding of crafts.

“Lucia,” Gavriel smiles. “How are you tonight? Closing up for the day?”

“Oh! Yes,” Luca shifts to the side, glancing at him again. “You see, I was actually wondering if, perhaps, you had any plans tomorrow? Around lunch? I-I quite enjoy our conversations and was wondering if you’d like to continue them over a meal with me?”

For a good minute, Gavriel’s mind blanks. He has been propositioned by females before over the years by those brave enough to ask, yet it’s been a little while thanks to the war and rebuilding of the country.  
Also, he has no idea what the hell to do with Aedion, Lysandra and Evangeline staring at him from behind the female, Lucia completely unaware of their audience.

Aedion, Lysandra and Evangeline all stare at Gavriel, who appears to be frozen as he stares at the woman in front of him. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. It’s as if his mind has been shut off.  
Giving a delicate cough, Lysandra breaks Gavriel from his trance, nodding towards Lucia, green eyes wide.

“Yes,” Gavriel blink at her, replying on instinct.

A smile blooms across her face, wiping away the lingering anxiety. “Excellent! I close at twelve, so meet me then!”

She throws him another beaming smile as she leaves, ducking down the street.

They stand in silence.

“Holy fuck.”

“Aedion!”

“What? It’s not as if Evangeline doesn’t know worse!”

~~~

“Aedion!” A pounding sounds out on the bedroom door, both Aedion and Lysandra jumping to their feet.

“What is it?” Aedion flings open the door, pulling on a white shirt as he does so.

Lysandra closely follows suit, unabashedly undressed and fully prepared to shift.

“I need you to come with me,” Vaughan orders, addressing Aedion. “It’s not an emergency, but we do need your presence for a private discussion. No need to get dressed or overworked.”

Aedion blinks slowly at the fully dressed and presentable fae. “It’s three in the morning.”

“We’ll explain later,” Vaughan shakes his head. “Just come as you are; it won’t take long.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Lysandra mumbles, shuffling back under the covers. “Scream if anything bad happens and you need me.”

He gives her a thumbs up before following Vaughan, glowering at his back the entire way, dressed in only soft, long black pants, a white shirt and his hair ruffled.  
Not exactly fitting for the warrior prince of the north, but it’s not like anyone’s awake to see.

Vaughan takes him to a room where a fire place flickers, filling the carpeted room in warmth. Rowan, Lorcan and Fenrys all stand around the room (well, Rowan and Lorcan are, Fenrys is sprawled on the end of a couch pressed against the wall). The thing that annoys him most is the fact all of them are immaculately dressed, as if it’s ten in the morning an they’ve had plenty of time to bathe and prepare instead of it being three in the fucking morning.

Without waiting Aedion heads straight to the couch, dropping down on the side opposite Fenrys, bringing his legs up to stretch out across the piece of furniture as he reclines back on a pillow, clutching a second one against his stomach to give his hands something to do (he should have brought some weapons. They all have weapons. He feels under-armed).

“So,” Vaughan sits in an armchair, clasping his hands. “We heard some very interesting news.”

“Apparently Gavriel was asked to meet for lunch today by a female,” Rowan raises a brow by the fire. “Is this true?”

Slowly, Aedion blinks once again, head still aching from being awoken so abruptly from such a deep sleep. “I… You all got ready at three in the morning to discuss my father’s love life?”

“It’s been years since Gavriel has accepted any kind of invitation,” Lorcan muses, eyes narrowed as if assessing a possible enemy. “Not since…”

At once all four of the males look to Aedion. Holding his head up high, Aedion meets all of their gazes one by one, eyes narrowed. He may be a little, well, grumpy, at being woken up at three in the morning.

“Gavriel should be here soon,” Fenrys looks at the clock. “We told him to come twenty minutes after we brought you here so it would give us plenty of time to have a chat.”

Gripping the pillow in his hands, Aedion’s eyes flicker to each of the former cadre members. “Why do you need twenty minutes to talk to me at three in the morning?”

He may be a little hung up on how fucking early it is. Aren’t old people supposed to need sleep?

“It’s just that it’s been a few years-“

“Decades more like it-“

“-since Gavriel spent time with a companion,” Rowan continues on, glaring an Fenrys’ interruption. “What can you tell us about her?”

“In her early forties, brown hair, hazel eyes, owns a store that holds craft items,” Aedion immediately lists. “Gavriel’s meeting her at her store in Serf’s Street for lunch.”

“And have you spent any time with her?” Lorcan questions. “Have you held conversations with her?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Perranth? Why are you even here?”

“I flew here after Fenrys sent word using magic. Now answer me.”

“No,” Aedion growls. “I have not talked to her.”

“Right,” Rowan nods seriously. “Aedion, you should understand that Gavriel, after your mother, took little interest in finding other partners-“

“-Very little interest-“

“-but now he may be finding himself interested in another person-“

“-who could make him happy-“

“-though your relationship with him has been growing-“

“-so there’s nothing to worry about-“

“-and I’m sure you can positively encourage his new relationship-“

“-you’re still his favourite-“

“FENRYS,” Rowan growls, snarling at the other male. “STOP TALKING. FOR FUCK’S SAKE, STOP TALKING.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Aedion points to the door, preparing to stand from where he’s sunken into the couch, already nearly asleep again thanks to the soft surface.

His first night without nightmares, where he may actually be able to get a decent, full-night’s sleep, and it’s ripped from him thanks to this bullshit.

“Don’t go,” Fenrys crosses his arms, growling in annoyance. “The main message is that were worried about Gavriel since he hasn’t done this in a long time, and we hope you don’t feel threatened.”

“Threatened?” Aedion scowls at him. “Why the rutting hell would I feel threatened?”

“It’s just,” Vaughan clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable, “if you think that Gavriel will forgot about your mother by finding interest in another female-“

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Aedion snaps. “I’m not worried about any of that. I’m an adult, not a child; Gavriel can see whoever he damn likes.”

  
“Well, good,” Rowan nods, frowning. “But, there’s also something else we realised none of us have discussed with you.”

“You mean your ridiculous waking times?” Aedion responds dryly.

“No,” Rowan releases a breath. “We realised that we never told you that we were available if you ever needed support.”

“What did Gavriel tell you?” Aedion growls, tensing, eyes narrowing.

He wouldn’t. His father wouldn’t tell others of how Aedion panics, of how his breath occasionally is stolen from his chest by his pounding heart. Gavriel wouldn’t reveal how much Aedion actually struggles with certain subjects, how memories can wash over him to the point where their gravity brings him to his knees. But if his father was to tell anyone, was to one day collapse under the strain of being Aedion’s father, who better for him to talk and complain to then his fellow former-cadre members? His oldest comrades?

“What?” Fenrys blinks at Aedion, head cocking in a purely lupin movement. “Gavriel hasn’t told us anything. What’re you going on about, boyo?” He grins, leaning in close. “You two hiding a secret?”

“Please let me leave,” Aedion closes his eyes, resting his head against the couch.

It’s too early for this shit. His head aches, his body is tired (he may be training a tad too much, but it helps the thoughts in his mind go blank) and guilt curdles in his stomach at his belief of Gavriel’s betrayal.

And, technically, he needs to be up and ready for the day in another three hours, even though he went to sleep at one. So he’s going off two hours of sleep, was rudely awoken, has to try to navigate the cadre’s codes and deal with Fenrys.  
That last one grates on his nerves more then anything.

“No,” Rowan outrightly refuses his request. “What we mean is that we served by Gavriel for years-“

“Hundreds of years-“

“FENRYS I SWEAR TO THE GODS-“

“Fine!” The golden-haired male holds up his hands. “Fine. Please, continue.”

Glaring, Rowan momentarily closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “Gavriel is our friend, and as his son, we hope you know that we’re willing to support you should you ever need it.”

“Within reason.”

All three fae males growl at Lorcan, who simply shrugs.

“Alright,” Aedion easily agrees. “Now, goodnight-”

“What are you all doing here?”

Gavriel scans the room, from Rowan and Lorcan standing by the fireplace to Vaughan sitting in an armchair and Fenrys lounging on a couch. The couch that his son is sprawled on the other end of, dressed in sleepwear, a pillow cliched against him, blue eyes bleary and blond hair mused, very nearly asleep. Gavriel resists the urge to grab a blanket and tuck it around his son, knowing that the gesture will not be well received by his son while in the presence of the others.

“I’m going to bed,” Aedion says sullenly. “Have fun with your friends.” But then he realises that his father is properly dressed and equiped for the day. “Why the hell are you all so dressed and ready so early in the morning?”

“I assumed this would be a political meeting of some sorts,” Gavriel bunches his brows, analysing Aedion. “How much sleep have you had?”

“Not enough,” Aedion mumbles, shuffling to his feet. “And next time any of you want to talk do it during lunch.” He turns away, shaking his head and muttering as he steps out of the room. “I am so done with you people.”

With that he slams the door behind him, the five fae still able to hear him muttering through the door.

“Isn’t his generation wonderful?” Fenrys comments lightly.

“So,” Gavriel turns back to his companions, “why did you drag my son out of bed so early in the morning and then call me here?”

“Don’t worry, the boyo will still get his sleep,” Fenrys rolls his eyes. “We heard you had an outing today.”

“So you decided to tell me to meet you at three in the morning?” Gavriel rubs at his face. “What did you do to Aedion?”

“Nothing,” Vaughan says placatingly. “We just told him we were available if he ever needed support for anything. So, tell us about this female.”

Gavriel looks at the four fae males staring at him expectantly, and shakes his head. “Goodnight.”

“But-“

Gavriel continues walking through the door. “Goodnight,” he says once again, and shuts it behind him.

~~~

“Should we be doing this?” Fenrys asks as they monitor the shop. “Gavriel will probably spot us.”

“If he does then we’ll say we’re shopping,” Lorcan snaps. “Why are you the one having doubts now?”

“I don’t know, I just-“

“What are you all doing?”

The four fae males turn from where they crouch in the alley way, Aedion standing in the other end, staring at them.

“Hey boyo!” Fenrys is the first to react, standing up and waving. “What are you doing here?”

“...I went for a walk with Lysandra...”

“Where is she?” Rowan asks casually, as if he isn’t a king suspiciously crouching in an alley way.

“She went back, I wanted to get some fruit…” Aedion looks at each of them in turn. “What are you doing? Are- are you seriously spying on Gavriel?”

“Be a good boy and go back to the castle,” Fenrys scowls, waving him away with a hand. “We’re handling this, no need to worry about your pop.”

Aedion stares at him, then turns to Rowan. “You’re the king, do you seriously not have better things to do?”

“Why are you buying fruit?”

“Because I couldn’t go back to sleep and have been working since three in the morning, and I want breakfast and I’ve finished all my work,” Aedion’s face clouds over. “Lysandra and Aelin banned me from intervening and trying to help with their work. Aelin said she wanted me to relax, and that I was tiring her out and boring her just by being around.”

“Then go back home and take a nap,” Fenrys waves his hand again. “Go on, shoo. Gavriel will probably be attracted and more interested in your scent then ours.”

Aedion spends another good minute starring at Fenrys, then snaps his gaze to Lorcan. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s stressed about doing this,” Lorcan deadpans back.

“Then don’t do it!” Aedion snaps. “Gods. To think you’re all the ancient warriors. Aelin does less idiotic things than this.”

“Gavriel is constantly caring for others,” Vaughan draws Aedion’s attention. “Over the years he’s looked out for each of us, he’s been our soundboard in the middle of arguments and has always held resilience. We’re worried about him, and want to make sure he’ll be alright with doing something like this for the first time in years.”

Aedion assesses him for a moment, then sighs and nods. “Fine.”

“Aren’t you curious?” Fenrys raises his brows. “Your father is interested in a female you don’t know. Aren’t you wondering how it’ll go?”

“Yes,” Aedion scowls, “but unlike you I have the sense to ask him later tonight.”

With that Aedion leaves the four fae males in the alley, all of them turning back to the task at hand. They watch as Gavriel enters the store, chatting with the female inside before they both exit, Gavriel holding the door open for her then standing to the side as she locks it. They descends down the street, ready to find a meal to share together.  
With their lethal grace the four fae males follow them, ready to at least assess the female for a few minutes themselves.

~~~

“So why are your friends following us?” Lucia asks, sipping at her lemon drink, the ice clinking in the glass.

“I think they’re just curious about you,” Gavriel chuckles, aware of the four pair of eyes watching them.

“And where are they now?” Lucia leans forward, grinning.

Gavriel leans forward, also smiling. “Vaughan is on a roof to the left behind me, Lorcan on a rooftop to the right, Fenrys is pretending to be interested in a store behind you to the right, and Rowan is trying to avoid attention by staying in the alley ways, attempting to listen in. I think Aedion was with them a little earlier before, but he left after two minutes. I don’t think he was a part of it. I just can’t believe that they’re all still at it after two hours.”

“It’s been fun, though, dragging them through the city,” Lucia smirks, giggling slightly. “His Royal Majesty was nearly found out at one moment.”

Gavriel can’t help but smile back, the joy of the day brimming inside of him. “He was. It’s much harder for him to hide and just walk around then the rest of us. When Aelin goes out with Aedion she has to either keep her hood up or stick to the quieter streets, or tries to get lost in crowds.”

“Aedion as in Aedion Ashryver?” Lucia tips her head to the side. “I see him walking around quite a bit. You’d think he’d be busy with work, but he always did seem a little irresponsible.”

Pausing, Gavriel contemplates the situation. “What do you know of him?”

He hasn’t told her yet of his relation to Aedion, seeing as how Lucia doesn’t seem to know. He should tell her that he has a child, but it seems like a little detail best left for later. Besides, he has a feeling that if Lucia did know she wouldn’t be so open in her opinion of Aedion.

“Don’t you know Aedion?” Lucia asks.

Gavriel gives another smile, a little forced, yet smoothing it over with charm. “Not very well. Tell me what you think of him; I have some thoughts of my own.”

He can see the tension leek from her. No longer is she talking to an official who may be mad at her opinion, but instead a person who may share the same opinion as her, someone who it shall be safe to complain to.

“It’s just,” she lowers her voice, tucking her words under her breath, “he always seemed so irresponsible, and was always breaking rules. Not to mention how arrogant he seems. It’s a little inappropriate, don’t you think, for him to act that way considering how he whored himself? You’d think he’d have a little more shame, but I suppose it’s not his fault considering that his mother wasn’t able to control herself either.”

The words shock Gavriel to the point where his mind blanks. Not noticing, Lucia continues on.

“I suppose the boy was raised in a rather horrible environment, and none of us know the real him all that well,” she muses.

That helps Gavriel relax slightly.

“I mean, no wonder the boy was twisted enough to not be able to choose between females and males,” Lucia clicks her tongue. “He must have been so confused, especially with no proper male role model to teach him to properly like females. It’s no wonder he whored himself to both genders.”

And the tension is back. Slowly, Gavriel casually removes his hand from his glass, knowing that if he keeps it in his grip he may very well break it.

“When you say twisted…” Gavriel clears his throat, “you mean…”

“I know the previous king preferred males,” Lucia sighs, “but that’s fine. At least he knew what gender he liked. But for someone to be so confused that they can’t just pick one is awful. I mean, it honestly all just becomes so much more confusing and complicated when people can’t be bothered to decide. At least Aedion Ashryver has finally managed to pick a gender and is with a female now.”

“But you do understand that he can still be attracted to males, yes?” Gavriel pushes, voice low and incredulous. “He doesn’t just magically become not interested in a gender anymore.”

“Well he’s picked one now,” Lucia frowns. “At least there’s that. I heard the boy found his father so hopefully he’ll help reprimand the boy on the mistakes he’s made and set him on the right path.”

Something slick and sick rolls over in Gavriel’s stomach. He has a feeling that Lucia’s definition of ‘mistake’ differs from his own.

“Aedion’s my son,” Gavriel says the words with pride, allowing them to fall with honour. “I’m his father.”

He watches the colour of her skin begin to drain, her mouth opening and closing as if trying to reclaim the words. “I…”

They both sit there, Lucia flushed and Gavriel wincing, both looking away from the other.

“I’m sorry,” Lucia sounds choked. “If I had known I would have…”

“Kept your opinions to yourself,” Gavriel gives a forced smile. “I know. It’s fine, Lucia. You’re entitled to your opinion.”

“I don’t think I can be with someone who has a child that’s so…” she obviously hesitates to find the right word, “confused.”

“I don’t think I can be with someone who classifies my son’s preferences as a ‘mistake,’” Gavriel agrees, some of his agitation leaking through.

“Right,” Lucia looks away, hand inching towards her bag. “Again, I’m sorry, but…”

“Right,” Gavriel nods, pushing his chair back. “Thank you for the invitation. I have had a lovely time.”

“Me too,” Lucia nods as she stands. “Thank you.”

With that she walks down the street, Gavriel going in the opposite direction. He ignores the eyes of his friends on him, knowing that there’s at least a small chance that one of them managed to hear their conversation. Hopefully over the noise of the crowd and their distance they were unable to make out most of the conversation.

~~~

“Why were you all watching me?” Gavriel raises a brow at the four males standing in the end of the alley way.

“Gavriel!” Fenrys splits into a grin. “Were just shopping for-“

“Cut the bullshit, Fenrys.”

“Yeah, we were watching you.”

“We were just,” Rowan hesitates, “uncertain of how it would go.”

“It’s been a while since you went out with anyone,” Lorcan scowls, crossing his arms defensively. “We wanted to see who caught your attention.”

“We know we may have intruded upon your personal space,” Vaughan raises his hands, “but we honestly wanted to see how it would go and if you’d need any help.”

Gavriel places his head in his hand, closing his eyes. “Need any… Next time you’re all worried about me, just ask instead fo stalking me during a date.”

“We weren’t stalking,” Rowan denies, crossing his arms as well. “We were observing a target.”

“Besides, wouldn’t you be worried about Aedion on his first date?” Fenrys points out.

“One, Aedion is with Lysandra and even if he was young enough to go on a first date I fully believe in his abilities to take care of himself,” Gavriel lists dryly, running his eyes over them. “Two, this is not my first date; I’m over five hundred years old and trust me when I say I have experience. Three, I am fully capable of taking care of myself.”

“We know,” Vaughan sighs. “We’re sorry for intruding, and for how it ended.”

Gavriel shrugs, attention wandering slightly. “Don’t be. I’m not sure it was going to go anywhere. It’s been years since I’ve had a serious relationship.”

Not since a golden, bold beauty that danced under the stars with him, bellowing a laugh her son, their son, now holds in his throat.

“Maybe it’s time to move on?” Fenrys suggests gently, quietly, dark eyes looking to Gavriel with worry. “None of us could work out why you were so devastated, but it’s been years. You’ve spent time with companions, we know, but none of them were real relationships.”

Not that it was easy to form relationships with Meave as a ruler. It’s one of the reason why Gavriel was so disappointed when Lorcan ended his relationship with that kind, smart fae female. Although he much rather prefers Elide for him now that he’s had the pleasure of meeting the wonderful woman and travelling with her.

“I know,” Gavriel clears his throat, glad suddenly for their presence, their support. “But now that Aedion’s here, now that I know what she’s gifted me with, I think I’ll focus on family.”

“We understand,” Rowan nods, voice quiet. “I think that’s all that’s really left to focus on now.”

A new court, one where they don’t have Meave lording over their heads, keeping them apart from one another. A new court where they can truly strengthen their bonds, and not have to hide their support of one another out of fear of their queen seeing it as possible treachery.

“Thank you,” Gavriel says honestly, smiling at all of them. “For all you have done, and all we shall do for one another.”

Even Lorcan smiles back.

“But for gods sakes, please stop dragging my son out of bed at three in the morning.”

~~~

“So, boyo,” Fenrys grins at Aedion, “turns out you won’t be gaining a step-mother.”

“Why?” Aedion has his head in his hands, voice weak. “Why do you all meet at these times? What have I done to you?”

The clock on the mantel on top of the fire place reads two in the morning. Giving up on all professionalism Aedion this time curls up entirely on the couch, resting his head on a pillow and prepared to sleep if he needs to. Next time he’ll bring a blanket; the fire is nice, but the solid weight of a blanket helps keep him grounded during the night (and he could use it to smother Fenrys. Or Rowan. Or any of them, really.)

“We do it because other people are likely to be asleep,” Vaughan explains. “There’s less of a chance of being heard in on.”

“I’d like to be asleep like those people. I should go do that.”

“Either way we thought we should let you know that what Lucia said is of no matter,” Rowan says, voice firm and sure. “Gavriel assured that in his actions and words.”

Blinking slowly, Aedion sits up. “What did Lucia say to Gavriel?”

At once all four of the males share panicked glances. Aedion feels the tension that slowly spears through the room, as noticeable as someone slowly ripping a thick sheet of paper to reveal a fact lurking behind it.

“We though you, uh, talked to Gavriel?” Fenrys leans forwards, inching closer to Aedion on the couch. “About how lunch went?”

“No,” Aedion narrows his eyes. “He told me it was fine.”

Fenrys sits back, all the males either shuffling away slightly or sinking lower into their seats. Rowan taps his fingers on the armrest, unable to look at Aedion, and the wolf of the north narrows his eyes at the un-characteristic fidgeting.

“What happened?” Aedion pushes. “I- Did Lucia say something about me?”

“You know what? Here’s a blanket,” Fenrys quickly grabs one from the rooms closet and shoves it in Aedion’s arms. “Why don’t we tell you a story about the good old days and you go back to sleep?”

“How old do you think I fucking am?” Aedion sits up properly, throwing the blanket back at Fenrys. “Tell me what happened?”

“Nothing,” Lorcan insists, voice hard. “Gavriel would have told you so if it was of any consequence.”

“Yet you woke me up at three in the morning, again, to tell me that what she said doesn’t matter?” Aedion growls through gritted teeth.

“Ask Gavriel,” Fenrys slowly begins to stand. “It’s his business. Really, Aedion, you shouldn’t go poking around in it.”

“His busi- YOU FOLLOWED HIM FOR THREE HOURS YESTERDAY!”

“Learn from our mistakes, boyo! Be better then your elders!”

“I AM BETTER THEN YOU, YOU EARLY-RISING ASSHOLES!”

~~~

“Did Lucia say something bad about me?” Aedion asks, sitting besides Gavriel on the lip of the palace gardens fountain.

The flowing of the fountain water is the only sound as Gavriel looks to Aedion, a blue piece of folded paper in his hands. Slowly, Gavriel places it down on the fountain lip, face grave.

  
“Who told you that?” Gavriel clasps his hands, sitting forward.

“Fenrys, Rowan, Lorcan and Vaughan,” Aedion resists growling, trying to keep his voice at the same even pace as Gavriel’s. “Why did you tell me it was fine when apparently it went horribly?”

Gavriel sighs. “Because in a way it was fine. I had a lovely day with her, even if we decided not to pursue a relationship. We parted amiably and it has no grand effect on our lives.”

“I just,” Aedion stares down at his closed fists. “I wanted to apologies if my… reputation, was the reason why you were unable to form a relationship.”

Something sick churns in him at the idea of that. He knows people question his right to stand by Aelin, and he’ll never forget the words Darrow once spitted in Aelin’s face, outing Aedion as a shameful ally to have. Never has he cared of what other people think of him, more then ready to dirty his hands and reputation for Terrasen, but now that the war is over there’s the issue of how his standing position affects those around him. Guilt curdles in him at the though of anyone commenting to Evangeline of who the people who raise her truly are, of having people spit at her that Lysandra and he are whores. Of Aelin having to defend him at every turn, people questioning her judgement as queen. Of Gavriel being shamed for siring such a deceitful, horrible mistake, or, worse, being ashamed of Aedion himself.

“Aedion,” Gavriel sighs again, the sound of annoyance nearly causing Aedion to flinch, “trust me when I say that it wasn’t Lucia’s opinion of you as much as why her opinion of you was the way it was.”

“I don’t…”

“She had some very twisted,” Gavriel’s mouth curdles at the word ’twisted,’ “views on what was wrong and what was right in terms of who people should prefer when it came to gender, as well as some other topics we didn’t agree on.”

“Oh,” Aedion clears his throat. “Was it about how I…”

“Partly,” Gavriel admits. “In truth, she had some very strong opinions concerning you and other topics that I didn’t agree on. Trust me when I say that it was fine, Aedion, and that all is cleared.”

“Right,” Aedion nods. “I just want you know that if someone, for some reason, dislikes me then you shouldn’t allow that to ruin your relationship with them. Plenty of people dislike me, or at the very least have heard about my history-“

“Aedion,” Gavriel interrupts, “I’m not going to form a relationship with people who clearly dislike someone I love.”

Love.

The word makes Aedion’s breath hitch in his throat, his heart stutter and hands clench. He suddenly can’t look at his father, tears sprinting unaided into his eyes.

“You don’t need to say anything back,” Gavriel murmurs, holding out a small blue penguin, “but I feel as though I need to say it. I don’t care what your past contains; you are my child, and with that comes unconditional love.”

Unconditional love.

Ignoring the tears rolling down his cheeks Aedion takes the penguin. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologies to me for,” Gavriel answers just as softly. “I know you have your own demons to face, but I need you to know that I’m not one of them, that I’d rather love and support you then strike fear into you.”

Aedion accepts the hand on his shoulder, quickly wiping away his tears. “Your friends are assholes when it comes to waking people up. I’ve started to leave blankets in random rooms.”

“I know, it’s come in quite handy,” Gavriel stands, offering Aedion his hand. “Come on, let’s go and see if we can convince Lorcan to stay a little while longer to help tell you stories about our past missions.”

Clasping Gavriel’s hand, Aedion accepts the support. “I’d like that.”

"Great. We'll build the raft tomorrow, I just need to find Evangeline a net."

"...I have no idea what the hell that means."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I already stated what will be in chapter five, but if anyone has any requests for me to add to it or chapter six fire away! I love taking and writing your requests; they're fantastic!
> 
> So comments and feedback appreciated!


	5. Drip, Drop, Thump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter five! Whooo! (I'm writing so much my fingers hurt whoooo!)
> 
> (TRIGGER WARNINGS: more heavily implied sexual abuse, as well as implied non-consensual intercourse. Not graphic, but stated and there and a little more detailed then chapter three. Please take care in reading if any of these may effect you emotionally.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Here's chapter five! As promised it included Aedion drinking, explanation of what he said in Rosamel, flashbacks of his past and them showing each other their scars, just as promised! 
> 
> Also, I got a great request about Chaol and Yrene's baby. I won't put that in this fic, but I'm starting a second fic to put in the series and it'll start off with that. So if you're looking for that request check the second work in the series once I post it!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

8.

“Come on Gavriel!” Fenrys scowls, following him down the hall. “Why won’t you go drinking with us? It’ll be fun, I swear!”

So many pleads just like this one have been begged over the years, some occasionally satisfied and others left hanging dry. However, Gavriel knows that Fenrys has been craving companionship, with Aelin so busy lately and with Aedion strangely retreating to his friends and staying out late (something that gives him the strange urge to give Aedion a certain time he has to be home by, if only Aedion wouldn’t kill him for it) Fenrys is lacking in people to drink and party with. Perhaps, just maybe, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Gavriel to spend some time with the younger fae. It would be nice to go out for a night, and he can always read in the morning.

Sighing, Gavriel shakes his head, futilely holding on to a few complaints. “Fenrys, it’s already late and we’ve had dinner…”

“Exactly!” Fenrys argues. “We have food in our stomach to soak up the ale! Come on, Rowan might be coming as well. If Vaughan and Lorcan were here then they would come!”

“Vaughan?” Gavriel frowns. “Where has he gone?”

“To the wild men again. He seems to have been adopted by them; we might have to steal him back but I’m pretty sure he’s become attached.”

“We’re not stealing him back,” Gavriel sighs. “Fine, I’ll come.”

“Oh, thank the gods!” Fenrys grins, clasping his arm. “About time!”

~~~

Aedion shouldn’t be thinking these things.

Cold snow, so cold and falling and layering his skin but its painted red, red not white why is it red-

_-thump-_

Not when he’s at a bar with Kyllian and the others.

Dark rooms, dark chains, dark figures constantly opening the doors, pulling on his chains, his collar-

_-thump-_

But they’re gone. Why are they not here? When did they leave? Right; an hour ago, when they left for the night. It was too late, and they asked if he wanted to come, but the drink was settling in his stomach so warmly and his head is rarely this empty.

The bruises are so dark. Dark bruises, white snow, tanned hands and red blood and it’s all so much-

_-thump-_

But usually things are so much quieter like this. It’s annoying how the colours, the sounds, race through his head when they’re not supposed to. He needs to get back to the castle, but it’s so satisfying to keep drowning the liquid fire that burns his mind to the point where some of the worries melt away. Not all of them, not the flashes that he’s never been able to hold back, but present day worries become an afterthought, thank the gods.

Or fuck the gods, more like it. They can burn the hell of whatever dimension they came from considering the crap they put them all through.

He stares down at the cup cradled in his hands, the amber liquid gleaming in the light. Could he make it home now, if he wanted? Lysandra knew he was going out, that he could be out all night with his men, so she wouldn’t be worried. Aelin is probably with Rowan, doing things with each other that Aedion really doesn’t want to think about when it comes to his cousin that’s practically his sister (not that their smirks hide much). Vaughan’s visiting the wild men again, Lorcan is with Elide, Fenrys is probably doing lord knows what and Gavriel said he’d stay the night in (reading the Laical books, they’ve been going through them together so they can then talk about them).

So. He may be dragging his own ass home for the night. Either that or asking if he can stay in one of the upper rooms. That’ll be a fun, drunk discussion to have.

“You want another?”

He’s still worrying, so the word ‘yes’ slips past his lips without his mind keeping track of it. It’s all the things he’s trying to forget that keep flashing in his mind and behind his lids. At least he’s tucked into a small alcove at a private table, away from the bright lights and bar surrounded by crowds. He’ll just keep going a little longer, just a bit, until his mind finally slows.

~~~

“You’ll enjoy this place,” Fenrys promises Gavriel. “Aedion comes here with his men, and brought me here a few times. The drinks are better then you’d think.”

Gavriel frowns. “Why would I think they’re bad?”

“Because Aedion likes them,” Fenrys grins. “Come on, you’ll like it and gods know there are some pretty ladies there.”

Gavriel sighs loudly through his nose. “Are you planning to go home with a female tonight?”

Fenrys throws him a rakish grin.

“This is why Rowan decided not to come, isn’t it?” Gavriel sighs.

“I may not go home with anyone,” Fenrys shrugs, dark eyes glancing to Gavriel. “Besides, it’s no fun to go out alone.”

“Alright,” Gavriel can’t help but smiling. “Let’s go.”

They head towards the end of the street, where lights shine through the windows of the stone building.

~~~

The pyres burnt so bright. So bright and so yellow and red blood dripped peach skin fried to black twisted flakes-

_-thump-_

Nearly sobbing, Aedion lowers his head onto his arms crossed on the table, his half-filled glass in front of him ignored. It’s not just colours now, but screams and the roar of fire that pierce his mind, that cut through the fog like arrows pierce their way through flesh.

-the feeling of being crushed against snow, the floorboards, the soft fabrics, unable to stand with the bodily weights always pushing him down-

_-thump-_

Without hesitation he tips his head back, swallowing the rest of the ale.

~~~

“See?” Fenrys laughs, clinking his glass against Gavriel’s. “Told you you’d like it!”

Roaring with laughter, Gavriel can’t help but agree. It’s lively, filled with colours and bright energy. The band that plays is fantastic, their music fast placed yet not so loud that it overtakes the entire tavern. The bartenders are kind and chatty, yet so busy that all three of them fly form one side of the bar to the other.

“This is fun,” Gavriel admits, raising his glass to his friend before swallowing a mouthful.

“Remember-“ Fenrys has to pause, snorting out laughter. “Do you remember when we went to the Valet Mountains?”

Gavriel can’t help it; he tips his head back and booms, unable to contain it just from the pure thought of that place alone. Fenrys himself collapses into laughter, falling against Gavriel’s side, his eyes watering at the memory.

“Rowan-“ Gavriel gasps for breath, “Rowan flew into three trees-“

“It was just one after the other!” Fenrys howls. “And Lorcan and Vaughan, they, they followed him!”

“They should have stayed on the ground!” Gavriel chokes out, nearly collapsing. “I mean, why would they even try to fly after that much alcohol?”

“I don’t know!” Fenrys collapses further, shoulders heaving. “Land creatures for the win!”

“Don’t be alarmed,” Gavriel grins, “but there’s a female in the corner that appears to be interested in your. Dark hair and eyes.”

Fenrys flicks his eyes to the woman and, to Gavriel’s surprise, looks away with little interest.

“I thought you were aiming to have company of the female sorts tonight?” Gavriel raises a brow.

“I think I’d prefer someone with lighter colouring,” Fenrys mutters, looking away.

Of course. He’s a fool for not noticing. The dark hair and eyes; Gavriel should have noticed, should have guessed that it’d bring back bad memories. So he scans the bar instead, continues to chat with Fenrys and pretend that the lull in conversation never occurred.

“Ah,” Fenrys’ eyes spark in interest, his gaze tracking to the corner of the room. “There’s something that sparks interest.”

Gavriel doesn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that Fenrys is looking at the red haired female that been glancing at Fenrys all night. He smiles, giving Fenrys a grin, fully aware of how the night may play out with the way Fenrys is teetering on the edge of uncertainty.  
A rare look, for him.

“Well?” Gavriel urges. “Go over there.”

“I think I will,” Fenrys grins. “What about you?”

“I’m fine,” Gavriel laughs. “Go on ahead. I’ll just finish this drink and head home.”

“You’re still on your first drink,” Fenrys raises his brows.

“Yet I’ve had plenty of conversation,” Gavriel raises his glass in salute. “Go on; I’ll take care of myself.”

He watches Fenrys duck towards the female, laughing as he flirts ridiculously with her until she takes his hand and leads him out into the night. He finishes his drink, standing and walking towards the door himself to leave. But then he catches a scent that makes his instincts perk, something in his chest spark in recognition.

Blood. My blood.

Children for fae are so rare and precious that his instincts sing in delight every time he catches scent, or hears, or even sees his son. The very notion that there is someone who carries his blood causes them to purr. Immediately he swerves, smiling, heading towards the corner, tucked table to where his instincts lead him towards.

~~~

It’s tearing through his throat, tearing it tearing it tearing it as it digs its claws into his cords trying to escape-

_-thump-_

-escape escape escape the iron chains the collar around his neck digging in in in until drips turns the white ice dark-

_-thump-_

-the snow is red it’s red but it’s supposed to be white why isn’t it white why is there just so much red-

_-thump-_

-scared scared scared so scared he can’t stop can’t stop his heart can’t control his lungs-

_-thump-_

-the room is so dark and so small and it’s just another cage the keys the keys-

_-thump-_

-he curls up again he has to because they keep coming in again and again and it hurts and someone help help help help-

~~~

“Aedion?” Gavriel blinks at his son, hesitantly approaching him, Aedion’s head buried in his folded arms.

His son doesn’t answer, Aedion’s eyes fluttering open to peak at his father. To his surprise a drunken smile spreads across Aedion’s face, wide and bright like a child’s would be, even with his eyes shining. He lurches forward and wraps his arms around Gavriel’s neck, tipping to the side in the booth he’s in. Gavriel immediately slides in next to him, wrapping his arms around Aedion to keep him from falling and sprawling over the side.  
Aedion just keeps laughing against Gavriel, leaning into his touch.

“Hey!” Aedion grins at his father. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came with Fenrys,” Gavriel answers slowly, looking around the empty booth. “I though you were with Kyllian?”

“I was!”

“Where is he?” Gavriel slowly moves the cup away from his son.

“He left,” Aedion doesn’t seem to notice his drink sliding away, grinning cheerily. “Is Fenrys here? Hi, Fenrys!”

“No, no, Aedion,” Gavriel shushes him, glancing around, “Fenrys is gone.”

It shocks him how quickly tears spring in Aedion’s eyes. “He’s dead?”

“No, Aedion,” Gavriel soothes him, keeping his voice low and steady. “He went home. Why don’t I take you home?”

Aedion smiles widely, about to answer, but then freezes, and something flickers in his eyes. “I…”

“Come on,” Gavriel pulls gently on Aedion to stand.

His son stays seated, shuddering for a moment. “Hurts…”

At that Gavriel freezes, leaning in close. “Are you alright? What hurts?”

As if breaking from a trance his son grins at him once again. “Are you a kitty cat? You never just walk around as a lion. If I were a lion I would.”

“Aedion,” Gavriel assesses his son, the empty table and glass, and the way his son looks at everything with unsteady vision. “How were you planning to get home?”

“Wasn’t,” Aedion smiles proudly, pointing towards the ceiling.

Hesitating, Gavriel picks his next words carefully, fear shooting up his spine at his sons vulnerable state. “Aedion, have people... have people tried to get you to sleep with them?”

This time the sadness creeps across Aedion’s face at a slower pace. “I-I’m not a whore.”

“No, Aedion, I wasn’t-“

“I’m not,” Aedion’s face crumbles in a way that breaks Gavriel’s heart as his son tugs at his sleeve, voice turning desperate. “I’m not. I’m not now, I promise, Gavriel. I never- I-I never-“

“I know,” Gavriel immediately rubs Aedion’s hand between his own as soon as he sees the rising of breaths. “I know, cub, I know. Do you have a room here?”

Slowly, apprehensively, Aedion nods, then looks at Gavriel, his eyes heavy and forlorn. “Please don’t take it.”

“Take your room?” Gavriel’s brows bunch; why would Aedion think he’d steal his place for the night?

“They’d do that,” Aedion mutters, the unfocused look returning to his eyes. “They would have keys, keys, and the locks were on the outside so they’d turn my rooms into cages... they’d just come in, unlock it with their keys then lock again when leaving...”

Bile rises in Gavriel’s throat at the words, at Aedion lost expression as if he’s trapped in some nighttime past.

“We’ll get the key, and you can keep it,” Gavriel promises quietly, Aedion resting against his side as he holds him close. “And if the lock doesn’t work I’ll guard us, and I’ll even turn into a lion.”

Aedion looks up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yes, Aedion.”

“Promise?” His son asks, determined, face serious as he tugs on Gavriel’s shirt. “Promise.”

“I promise I’ll make sure nothing hurts us,” Gavriel gently pulls Aedion’s hand away. “Ready for bed?”

“No,” Aedion frown, voice surprisingly flat and steady. “I want another drink.”

Freezing, Gavriel blinks at him. “Why?”

He can’t really think of anything else to say. The fluxing emotions, the unsteady movements; surely even Aedion is aware that enough is enough.

“Because,” Aedion sniffs, relaxing against his father. “If I drink a little, I’m a sad drunk. If I drink more, I’m happy. I don’t want to be sadder.”

Gavriel always latches onto the certain words his son uses, constantly realising the truths and lies that Aedion manages to weave together in plain sight. He says nightmares will never ‘happen’ again, that he’s ‘happier,’ not ‘happy,’ and ‘sadder’ instead of just ‘sad.’ The twisted vocabulary makes his chest ache at all that could be implied.

“Come on,” Gavriel stands, supporting Aedion. “We’ll get the key and go to the room.”

“I have it,” Aedion pulls the sliver of metal clumsily from his pocket.

“Alright,” Gavriel knows better then to try to take the key.

He leads Aedion up the stairs, but not before swiping a bottle of water before he does so. He resists the urge to take the key from Aedion’s hands, instead waiting patiently as it takes his son at least five minutes to open the door.  
Then Aedion locks it behind him. And Gavriel watched as his son checks to see whether or not he can open it again, whether or not it’s just locked to those on the outside.  
Gavriel watches the tension drain from his sons shoulders at the satisfactory click.

The room is small, the bed pressed against one wall and the couch the other, barely a meters worth of space between them. The very fact however that the tavern rents out rooms at all shows what good wealth it’s in, certainly by the clean quality of the room.

“Drink this,” Gavriel hands his son the bottle, hands stretched out to help or catch if need be (he may have practice thanks to a few of the cadre members).

To his surprise Aedion tips his head back and drink four big gulps of water with practiced ease, sighing as he lowers the bottle, still swaying on his feet.

“Good,” Gavriel gently pries the bottle from Aedion’s hands. “Now, time to lay down and-“

“I got this from a battle,” Aedion lifts his shirt, pointing to a scar on his hip. “Where’d you get that one?”

Gavriel swallows thickly at the retched scar, flexing his hand where Aedion points to, his own scar smaller in comparison. “I was attacked by assassins in a jungle.”

“A jungle?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me!” Aedion grins brightly. “Please? This battle is from when I managed to get up to the commander and threw a spear at him but his friend caught me in the side!”

Trying to swallow, feeling nauseous himself, Gavriel shakes his head. “That’s a good story. I got mine when searching for treasure.”

“Treasure?” Aedion’s eyes light up. “Buried treasure?”

“Yes,” Gavriel helps him move to around the bed, sorting through things, his mind half on the bullshit story. “Buried treasure, where we found a map on a temple side. Rowan, Fenrys and I searched and searched until we found it, and it set off a trap.”

“A trap?” Aedion’s eyes stay bright, and he clings to every word.

Gavriel huffs our a breath, very nearly laughing as he sorts with the sheets. “Aedion, I promise, as soon as you’re sober in the morning I’ll tell you the entire story. I swear. And I’ll tell you the story for other scars too.”

That seems to please his son greatly, who smiles and climbs under the covers. He settles there, watching Gavriel with devoted attention, the light from the lamp reflected in his eyes.

“Goodnight, Aedion,” Gavriel turns out the light, grabs a blanket and sets himself up on the narrow couch.

“Is that comfy?” Aedion asks, voice light and inquisitive.

“Not really,” Gavriel admits, trying to find some way to keep his legs from hanging off the edge.

“There’s room,” Aedion mentions.

Gabriel pauses at his sons offer. “Aedion, answer me honestly; do you think you’d panic, if I slept next to you?”

“No,” Aedion answers with such surety in his drunken state that it throws Gavriel off. “I know how you smell, so it’ll be alright. Like how I know how Kyllian, Aelin and Lysandra all smell and look. I don’t panic if I sleep with them.”

Of course, it makes some sense that the instinctual part of Aedion’s mind would use peoples scents as to label them as threats, as needs to panic. If he recognises the scents as friendly then there’s no reason to attack or be afraid.

“Are you sure?” Gavriel asks again, worried about crossing some kind of line with non-drunk Aedion.

“Gods! Yes,” annoyance leaks into Aedion’s voice, and Gavriel nearly sighs in relief at how his son sounds so close to his old self. “I’ll feel bad if you don’t. But you can’t come in as a lion. Unless you want to, because lions are amazing.”

Fighting back a smile, Gavriel lies down. “Alright, Aedion.”

“So fluffy. I bet your fur is soft like Lysandra’s. But she’s probably softer.”

Gavriel snorts, something that surprises him as much as it surprises Aedion, Gavriel just able to make out his son in the dark. But then a happy grin appears on Aedion’s face as if he’s made some accomplishment he’s quite proud of.

“Go to sleep, Aedion,” Gavriel shakes his head, still smiling. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“That sounds bad,” Aedion mumbles, burrowing into the blankets for what Gavriel guesses is warmth. “Sorry I ruined your night.”

Reaching out a hand, Gavriel gives Aedion’s hair a pat, his drunken son allowing it with clear glee. “I’m not mad, I was going to go home. Now try to sleep, alright? And I put a bucket next to the bed.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s alright.”

They lay still, barely even the quiet hum of the street outside reaching them. The patrons downstairs can be heard, certainly, but its muted enough that Gavriel has little trouble blocking out the sound.  
His eye lids begin to droop, soothed by the lack of immediate danger in the dark room and knowing that his son is right besides him to be protected if needed.  
So sleep curls its fingers around him, sinking its nail deep into his bones, the alluring toxin helping to shut his eyes.

Until a rhythmic thumping noise starts on the other side of the wall.

Gavriel himself groans, the sound of the bed and thumping louder then the actual cries of the female and male. “Gods, at this time of night...”

He debates pounding on the wall, or just trying to ignore it as he sits up. Looking down he notices Aedion shoving the covers up over his head, eyes screwed shut, a sound between a whimper and sob forcing itself from his lips.  
Well, now Gavriel really does want to turn into his lion form and roar at people.  
(And honestly it’s the middle of the night and the walls are obviously thin. You’d think they’d have some consideration for other patrons. It just angers him further).

“Hey,” Gavriel hunkers down, placing his head back on the pillow to look at Aedion, gently shushing him, keeping his voice light. “Hello, Aedion. It’s alright-“

“I hate it so fucking much,” Aedion gasps, hands clenching the pillow, eyes still shut. “I hate the fucking thumping so much-“

Wrapping his arms around his son Gavriel holds Aedion as a few sobs slip out, Aedion clearly trying to choke back the tears even as he clutches at Gavriel, his nails nearly digging in.

“I hate the thumping,” Aedion trembles viciously, body shacking. “Always the thumping. I hate that sound.”

And then Gavriel hears the repeat of the words uttered in Rosamel, the ones he was always so scared to bring up to his son lest it sparked a memory.

'I don’t want to anymore.'

Pulling in a shaky breath, Gavriel clutches his son closer, gathering Aedion in his arms and bowing over him as if to protect him from the noise. Quietly, Aedion sobs, pressing himself firmly against Gavriel as if to try to block out the sounds. The thumping grows louder in crescendo, and Gavriel allows a snarl to escape at the heaving, shuffling gasp of breath it pulls from his son, who’s eyes are here but not here.

“It’s alright,” Gavriel mumbles in Aedion’s hair. “It’s alright.”

But he knows. He knows that Aedion is no longer present with him, that the sound has dragged him back into some past memory. He sees the moment when his son returns from it, the moment where Aedion breaks and no longer contains his sobs of panic and despair.  
Throwing away all formality Gavriel loosens his grip on Aedion, sits up, and bangs heavily on the wall above the head board.  
Immediately the sounds stop. With it Aedion’s gasping and crying is the only sound heard, Gavriel holding him close in a vain attempt to calm him.  
Dropping down again Gavriel prepares to talk to Aedion, to try to calm him from whatever memory he was suddenly thrown back into-  
And the sounds starts again.  
This time Gavriel growls viciously, the sound raising in volume until it rips through the room and hopefully the walls. He knows it did as the sound stops once again, this time frantic whispers of fear taking place. A quiet satisfaction fills him, and he waits an extra minute to see if they’ll resume.  
They don’t.

“It’s alright,” Gavriel whispers, gathering Aedion in his arms as his son continues to bury himself in Gavriel’s hold. “You don’t have to do anything, Aedion. Alright? I’m here. You’re fine.”

He continues to pat Aedion’s hair, his son slowly calming.

“I’m alright,” Aedion mumbles, wiping at his eyes and pulling away, sobering.

“What was it?” Gavriel asks quietly. “What did you see?”

Aedion says nothing.

~~~

Cold cold cold cold-

_-thump-_

-but the pyres are so hot-

_-thumb-_

-the red in hot but the white is cold and why is white turning red-

_-thump-_

-everything just hurts hurts hurts so much-

~~~

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Aedion mutters, turning away.

Gavriel waits for a moment, contemplating in the silence. Not now, this isn’t the time. This isn’t the time for him to pry, not when Aedion is still drunk, only brought down from his high by the remembrance of a traumatic event triggered by a sound.  
Gavriel doesn’t want to think about the sound. Doesn’t want to think about why that’d be a trigger.

“Alright,” he whispers instead, not reaching out to touch his son, in fact preparing to leave the bed altogether. “Drink water if you need it, and remember that the bucket is there. If you have any trouble breathing tell me, and if you can’t then try to turn on your side.”

He hears Aedion’s breath hitch as he rises from the bed and moves to the couch. He doesn’t dwell on it, doesn’t question it not wishing to force his son to explain whether or not it was a sound of fear or loss.

Sleep is cruel. Its fingers do not curl into him, dragging him down into the depths of slumber. It takes Aedion, someone who its keeps captivated in nightmares, first. It soothes his breathing until it’s all Gavriel tries to focus on, the sound of his son’s breaths and beating heart. Sleep eludes Gavriel for the longest of times, leaving him staring at the ceiling, his own heart stuck in his throat.

~~~

The fucking headaches.

Aedion always forgets about the fucking head aches.

Strangely enough the nausea has never been too much of a-

Twisting to the side he hurls, his stomach heaving itself out through his throat into the bucket left by the side of the bed. He’s dimly aware of a hand rubbing his back, helping hold the bucket close, but he’s too focused on loosing everything as it burns its way through his throat. With every heave his head aches as if a needle spears it.  
Gods, he hasn’t been this hung over since he first started drinking and had no idea how to handle his alcohol.  
What did he do last night?

The questions only grow as Gavriel, his father, moves the bucket away once he’s done so the smell doesn’t encourage another bout of vomiting.

So he was drunk out of his mind, he’s in his usual room above the tavern, and for some reason his father is here as he throws his guts up.

Strangely enough, this isn’t too out of place in the pattern of his life.

“Drink,” Gavriel hands him a bottle, Aedion immediately trusting that it isn’t some kind of drug or alcohol and taking a swig.

“What…” he winces at his raw throat, looking around the room. “What happened?”

Gavriel releases a long breath, still rubbing Aedion’s back. “I went out with Fenrys last night, and I found you here drunk out of your mind.”

There’s a tinge of authority in that, as well as something that gives Aedion the apprehensive feeling that he may be in for a lecture. Wincing, he turns away from Gavriel, then winces at the sunlight streaming in through the gossamer curtains. He fights against the want to lie back down and bury his head under the covers.

Bury under the covers…

“Do you remember anything about last night?” Gavriel asks, voice dry and arms crossed.

Hesitating, Aedion glances at his father. “I had a tad too much to drink with Kyllian and the others and decided to stay the night while they left?”

“Yes,” Gavriel’s answer makes him relax, “except for the fact that Kyllian and the other’s weren’t there, and you told me you kept drinking long after they left.”

Stiffening, Aedion glances towards Gavriel then away again.

“Not to mention,” Gavriel continues in the same flat tone, “that you’ve been staying out late about once a week or so lately.”

Aedion takes another swig of water, glad for it washing away the foul taste in his mouth.

“Aedion,” Gavriel’s voice turns commanding, leaving no room for bullshit or contradiction, “have you been drinking yourself into stupors once a week?”

It becomes a lot harder to swallow. “No.”

“Aedion.”

“No!” Aedion scowls, arguing back. “I’m not. Last night was just a bad night…”

“So you dealt with it by drinking?” Gavriel pushes, clearly not ready to move on from the topic at hand.

Aedion’s about to answer, he really is, but he ends up heaving. In a flash Gavriel is handing him the empty bucket, and Aedion curls over it as he retches.

“No,” Aedion says again once he’s done, gripping the bucket in his hands. “Last night I just… I don’t know, it was worse then usual and drinking just made it…”

“Worse,” Gavriel growls. “It made it worse, Aedion.”

“But, I don’t remember it,” Aedion points out. “That’s not worse, that’s better. And you didn’t have to stay the night.”

The look that Gavriel sends him clearly states that yes, he did. “You can’t keep drinking like you did last night.”

“I never drink like I did last night.”

“You’re worrying us with how late you come home,” Gavriel frowns. “Not only that but you don’t even stay with Kyllian and your men like you tell us.”

“I do!” Aedion places his head in a hand, the ache only encouraging the agitation. “Last night was just worse than usual!”

“I know,” Gavriel rubs at his face.

The way his father says it makes Aedion pause, looking over to Gavriel. His father appears tired, but not only that. No, Aedion knows what it looks like when there are invisible weights dragging a male down, hanging onto his mind and introducing exhaustion in a new form.

“What did I do, last night?” Aedion swallows. “I- Was it bad?”

“No,” Gavriel’s slow answer does nothing to placate him, “nothing bad yourself. You were just… triggered, I think, by a sound. You were heavily intoxicated, and tired and not to mention obviously already struggling, but you panicked deeply.”

Swallowing thickly, Aedion looks away. Shit, maybe he should try to remember things, if he’s going around showing weakness and vulnerability like that. If the wrong person talked to him at the wrong time, if they learnt what they could use to bring him to his knees-

“Aedion,” Gavriel leans forward, voice a steady warmth, “remember what I said. I’d rather you talk to anyone, me or otherwise, about how you’re feeling before you begin to drown and feel the need to scream.”

Good gods. “Did I scream last night?”

“No,” Gavriel pauses. “Well, you did yell ‘hi, Fenrys,’ but that was about it.”

“Fenrys was there?”

“No, he went out earlier, but you thought he was still there and wanted to greet him.”

His head aches. Aedion takes another swig of water, trying to push back the ache and worse-than-usual dehydration.

“We can’t just let this go, Aedion,” Gavriel pushes onwards. “We need to talk about this.”

“It was one night!” Aedion finally relinquishes the words. “One rutting night of trying something different to see if it would work for fucking once! But it didn’t alright? I know that now. Experiment over.”

“The very fact that you thought drinking yourself into oblivion would be considered a coping method-“

“I didn’t!” Aedion holds back on growling, knowing that the other male won’t retaliate and disliking the idea of being the first to do such a thing. “I just went out to get drunk!”

“That’s not good!”

“I’m twenty-four years old! And didn’t you ever do anything like this when you were my age, or didn’t the others? Isn’t this hypocrisy?” Aedion snaps back.

“It’s not hypocrisy, it’s parenting!” Gavriel argues, and they both sit back suddenly at the words as if the fight has now been drained from them both.

Aedion stares at his knees, unsure of what to say in retaliation, instead focusing on steadying his stomach as he thinks. What can he say to that? That he doesn’t want Gavriel ‘parenting’ him? That he wants him to stop, and go away? He can’t, because then he can’t take it back because he’ll have to prove being wrong.  
Damn, he may be proving Chaol right, that bastard.

But Gavriel dragged his drunk ass out of the tavern and up into the room, then cared for Aedion when he apparently became panicked thanks to some kind of noise, and made sure that he didn’t choke to death on his own vomit.

His father is one of the best males he’s ever had involved in his life.

Or in his life at all.

“It was irresponsible,” Aedion admits. “I’m sorry.”

He can feel Gavriel’s shock, his start more then enough to cradle guilt in Aedion’s gut at the fact that he was so shocked. Gavriel leans in a little closer, nearly pressing against Aedion’s side, clasping his hands and contemplating his response.

“Thank you,” Gavriel finally breaks the silence. “I understand that as a young adult you’ll probably do things such as this in your life, but I just hope that you’ll try to stay safe as you do so, and not use it as some sort of last-minute coping mechanism.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be,” Aedion swallows, rubbing the back of his neck. “We just went out drinking as usual, but then they all started to leave, and the thoughts wouldn’t stop so I figured that since I was already so far gone…”

“Continuing to drink just because you’re already drunk isn’t a good idea,” Gavriel resists putting his head in his hands. “Just promise me, Aedion, that if you ever find yourself far gone you’ll try to turn to people instead of alcohol.”

“I will, I usually do,” Aedion promises, trying to unclench his hands, using them to smooth down his hands. “I just… Thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry for any trouble that I caused.”

“Just please don’t get black-out drunk.”

“I won’t.”

“And tell me, or anyone, if you’re going out drinking.”

“I will.”

“And please be back by one.”

“That’s a little early if I’m out with the men.”

“One. Or I’ll assume you’re dead.”

Snorting a laugh, Aedion nods. “One, unless I think we’ll be staying the night, in which case I’ll tell someone.”

“Good,” Gavriel sags with obvious relief. “Do you feel well enough to walk back?”

The retching in the bucket is enough of an answer. Aedion pulls back once he’s done, wincing, and closes his eyes.

“Did… did you tell me about a scar or something?”

“Oh, right. So it was about two hundred years ago…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! As promised before this series will have pics involving different characters and relationships, so the second fic in this series will be for the request by L_Minx about Yrene and Chaol and their baby! That and chapter six should both be up soon!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this as always!


	6. Water, Fire, Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anniversary hits Terrasen, an anniversary that represents a day and two deaths that were never properly mourned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the sixth chapter, filling in about three requests I got. Hope you enjoy!

9.

Gavriel knows what’s approaching. It’s as if a somber cloud has fallen across the entire kingdom, its shadow overtaking everything in sight until barely the smallest hint of joy shines through.  
It’s been tens years, yet still they mourn. Yet they still remember.  
And the actual date itself is still a week away. Seven full days of waiting, of preparing. Of people slowly preparing to mourn the death that never received the proper farewell thanks to the invasion of the kingdom ten years ago.

Lorcan is worried (though he’ll never admit it) by the quietness Elide has taken to and is trying to offer as much support as he can, Manon also visiting to scare off all whom try to pressure the young lady of the land. Aelin is scarcely seen without Rowan by her side and is never without Fenrys worryingly blinking their little messages at her, helping bring forth small smiles with his actions and words.  
Aedion himself has Lysandra by his side almost constantly, either in her human form or in the body of some other creature, Kyllian also returning from the Bane to simply talk with his general. Evangeline has taken to dropping little flowers and gifts of crafts around for everyone, her brave face and colourful creations helping to draw out smiles from the others as they find her surprises sitting at desks or chairs, little rays of sunshine that pierce through the clouds.

It doesn’t help that it’s been raining for a solid week.

Gavriel sighs, turning away from the window. The rain itself is light, yet the pitch-black clouds surrounding the city suggests more down pours.  
Walking down the hallways has become a somber act, the staff of the palace themselves becoming scarce and scant. Most training has been cut off thanks to the gruesome weather, yet Gavriel has no doubt in his mind where he’ll find Aedion.

As soon as he walks into the room he’s met with the vision of his son and queen beating each other bloody and bruised, Lysandra monitoring from the side of the indoor training ring. Without hesitation Gavriel goes to stand by Lysandra, wincing at a particularly sharp kick to the ribs that Aedion delivers, only for Aelin to bring a knee to his gut in retaliation.

He’s not sure if they’re deliberately allowing each other to land their hits, taking turns in swinging and being beaten instead of actually fighting.

“How long have they been at this?” Gavriel asks, tilting a little towards the shifter.

“An hour,” Lysandra replies flatly. “In all honestly I don’t think they’ll stop until they’ve both collapsed. Rowan took Aelin’s place in a meeting so she could have some time off to relax. I don’t think he counted this as relaxing.”

Turning back to the fight Gavriel assesses their movement. Gods, they really do look alike. From their skin, to their hair, to their eyes and the pure rage that they both contain. Something picked up by Rhoe, the prince of fire, but also something that was mangled into a twisting, buckling beast thanks to being raised in war.  
It’s easy to see those buckling beasts of rage as the cousins try to beat the shit out of each other. Bruises already speckle their skin, little bits of blood trickling from lips and noses. Yet it’s not even each other they’re seeing, their eyes glazed over with grief and rage to the point where their movements may just be automatic at this point, to hit and be hurt back.

“We should stop this,” Lysandra mutters, and Gavriel realises just how deeply her nails are gripping her arms. “They’ve just been exhausting themselves like this for days.”

“It’s a distraction,” Gavriel watches as they tumble and toss and fight.

So different to how so many other siblings in the world play fight. This is brutality in one of its grandest forms. In flying fists and choked roars nearly mirroring sobs. Both Lysandra and Gavriel watch in morbid fascination.

“We should put a stop to this,” Gavriel agrees. “If we can get them to stop fighting each other they may calm down a little. They don’t enjoy hurting other’s.”

“They don’t enjoy hurting each other, but here they are,” Lysandra points out.

“You take Aedion, I’ll take Aelin,” Gavriel suggests. “They’ll be less likely to hurt us to a certain extent.”

“That could work,” Lysandra nods. “Can I break them up?”

“By all means.”

Holding her fingers to her lips Lysandra unleashes a piercing whistle, the sound cutting through the air and causing both cousins to freeze. They look over to her, at once stepping away from each other.

“Aedion,” Lysandra smiles at him, “come train with me.”

“I-“

“It’ll be fun,” she gives him to room to argue, grabbing his hand and leading him to another ring. “There’s still much I need to learn-“

“Your Majesty,” Gavriel dips his head at Aelin, “would you perhaps want to spar with me?”

Snorting, Aelin wipes at the blood under her nose. “You can drop the ‘Your Majesty’ you know. It’s not as if anyone else is going to walk in here.”

No, there’s little need to be proper when the queen herself is covered in bruises and blood, her clothes as torn and ruffled as her cousins. Gavriel easily winds bindings around his hands, stepping in front of his queen and raising them to be hit.

“What?” Aelin raises a brow, still breathing heavily. “No actual training?”

“To centre yourself is training,” Gavriel gestures with his hands. “You’d be surprised how effective this is. Besides, you look like you’ve blown off the worst of it already.”

The worse of the rage, the sorrow.

Raising her fists, Aelin starts striking his palms. She falls into an easy rhythm, keeping her stance strong while twisting her torso to deliver a pattern of hits to Gavriel’s hands, one straight after the other. Standing solid Gavriel takes each blowing force without complaint, distantly aware of Aedion and Lysandra sparring behind him. It’s easy to see the damage Aelin and Aedion did to each other when both have to stop, heaving in breaths, after only five minutes.

“Water,” Lysandra rolls her eyes, pointing to the pitcher on the other side of the room. “You both need it.”

They watch the two cousins limp to the pitcher, talking to each other as they do.

“It’s been horrible,” Lysandra sighs, running her hands through her dark hair. “How have you been holding up?”

“I should ask you that,” Gavriel takes in her pale appearance. “You look as worn out as everyone else.”

She sends him a bemused glance. “It’s hard not to be.”

Indeed, it’s as if a little piece of everyone’s soul has been dragged through the mud, torn down the middle then sewed back onto the spirit with a gap in the defences. It’s becoming harder to ignore the oncoming date, especially for the two golden-haired royals chugging down water.

“How do we keep them from tearing each other apart?” Lysandra queries. “They’re just wearing themselves out.”

“They’re coping.”

“They’re self-destructing.”

“That seems to be their shared preferred method,” Gavriel shrugs. “I doubt there’s much we can do. Both have made it clear that they’d rather be distracted then talk.”

“But they need to talk,” Lysandra’s brows furrow. “Nothing else is helping them.”

“We’ll get there,” Gavriel places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We all will.”

“Right,” Lysandra drags her eyes to his. “But there’s still seven days left.”

~~~

Gavriel watches as Fenrys blinks to his queen, Aelin doing so back in order. He turns away to allow them their privacy, long since knowing that the random actions hold deep meaning for the two. A form of communication where words all fail.  
But turning his sights to his son isn’t much better. Aedion sits next to Aelin, Kyllian and Lysandra to his side, chuckling quietly at a story his commander tells, the sound small and weak in comparison to his usual booming laughter and brash bellows. That in itself is enough to know that the mood is taking its toll.

Dinner has been a quiet affair, just the closest members of the court attending. Even then a silence hangs over them all, filling the spaces where no one can find easy conversation to fill in the gaps.

~~~

“We could display the sword and shield.”

Everyone looks over to his son, and from behind Aedion Gavriel can see the way his son’s fingers tighten on both the shield and sword, his swallow nearly inaudible.

“They belonged to Rhoe,” Ren quietly suggests. “We already have the water wall set up for Evalin; we could hang up the sword and shield in the middle of it. It would only be for a few days since the fire flowers symbolise him enough but it could be a good gesture for the week of mourning.”

Indeed, in the grand centre of the palace, in the open, public circle, now stands a tall wall made from smooth bricks.

Soon, metal shall be attached to the wall. Four joints, right in the centre of the colossal structure, in the shape of small fire flowers. One for the sword, and one for the shield. The weapons of Rhoe shall rest in the centre of the wall, the sword above the shield. A wall of water and weapons of fire.  
To represent the kingdoms lost rulers-to-be.

“Or not,” Ren amends, taking in Aedion’s stiff form. “We could use another Terrasen symbol or heirloom-“

“We should do it,” Aedion cuts in, voice firm despite his hand grabbing for Aelin’s. “Rhoe and Evalin, together, just like they were always meant to be.”

Aelin squeezes his hand back.

Five days left.

~~~

Two days later the blacksmiths have finished, presenting to Aelin the beautiful golden flowers that will be attached to the wall to act as support for two of the countries oldest weapons.

They kneel in front of Aelin’s throne, the closest members of Aelin’s court stand by her throne, watching as the four joints, are held up. No pillow for them, the joints still resting on the metal tray they had cooled against.  
By the bob in Aelin’s throat, the tears in her eyes, it’s clear that it’s of little bother to her. Aedion himself has to look away, Lysandra quietly slipping her hand in his, Gavriel gravitating in a little closer.

“Thank you,” Aelin clears her throat. “You can assemble them to the wall immediately."

They bow again, leaving the room.

As soon as the door is shut Aelin places her head in her hands, shoulders shaking. Aedion quickly walks towards her, no one stopping him as he wraps his arms around her and holds on tight. Everyone else gathers around the throne to stand close and offer their support, Gavriel’s heart aching at the way tears stream down Aedion’s own face before he buries it in Aelin’s hair.

Three days left.

~~~

Gavriel knows that his son has not been eating, much like Aelin. That much is obvious, with the way he hasn’t shared a meal with his son in days, with the way he can see the energy leaking out of Aedion with no real way to refuel. His sword arm dips during training, caused by both his discomfort at his substitute sword and the way he’s been running off air. The dark smudges underneath his eyes are prominent, as dark and blurred as a mascara mark caused by the tears of a broken-heart.

Not that Aedion wears mascara.

Well, except for that one time, on Fenrys’ dare. That one, single day. What a nightmare that had been…

But now is no time for reminiscing.

“Let’s stop here for today,” Gavriel suggests, gently taking the sword from his son’s hand, Aedion simply hanging loose and allowing his father to do as he pleases as he stares at the ground.

“Right,” Aedion’s lips trembly slightly, a fact that Gavriel ignores for his son’s sake.

His footsteps ring out through the room, Gavriel sorting through the weapons once he places the word back. As soon as he turns around he notices that Aedion’s turned away and is quickly wiping at his eyes. Breath hitching in his chest, Gavriel takes in the way that Aedion’s entire frame appears to be nearly collapsing in on itself, so similar to the way he held Aelin as she folded the other day.

Gavriel places the sword away, and returns back to Aedion’s side. He softly takes his son into his arms, Aedion simply allowing himself to be held as he quietly sobs, his body limp and shaking in Gavriel’s arms.

Two days left.

~~~

“You can stay, if you want.”

Aedion sits on the bed next to Aelin, eyes smudged and hair ruffled, still wearing the same sleepwear as her. “Where’s Rowan?”

“Doing his kingly duties,” Aelin waves her hands and gives a weak smile. “I ordered him to. Someone has to keep the country running.”

“Right,” Aedion reclines back against the pillows, staring at her bedroom roof.

For a moment neither of them say anything, just staring at the ceiling with the same kind of devouring silence. Aelin herself is just as ruffled as Aedion, her hair in a long, messy plait and still in her own sleepwear.  
No nightgowns, though. No point, and no joy in them, currently exists.

“We never got to have a proper funeral,” Aedion strangles out, his voice wobbling and thick.

Pressing her face into her cousin’s shoulder Aelin allows tears to fall. “Do you- do you remember when you went to the winter cabin with us, and we went sledding?”

“Rhoe though we were going to die,” Aedion laughs hoarsely, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Evalin just kept cheering us on as we flew. According to Gavriel my mother and her used to pull dangerous stunts together all the time, so it’s no surprise she was a supporter of our antics.”

“Fitting that their children do the same,” Aelin flashes the first real grin she’s held in days, Aedion copying the motion.

“And remember when you beat up that stable boy for making fun of how close we were?” Aelin prods his side. “You were always so touchy about that.”

Aedion raises a brow slowly, turning to stare down at her. “Like when you set a boy on fire for making fun of how I like both boys and girls? And for saying that I was weird for being so, and this is your word here, ‘pretty’?”

“He just smouldered a little bit!” Aelin chokes out a laugh. “It’s not like he didn’t deserve it. And you were pretty.”

“You ruined my reputation.”

“You were skinnier then and looked sweeter, even if you were actually a devil. You looked like me and I thought I was pretty so that made you pretty.”

“I’m not saying I don’t understand your logic,” Aedion rolls his eyes. “It’s just that when you kept saying how ‘pretty’ I was it wasn’t exactly helping my relationship with the other young males. Being your favourite already put enough of a target on my back.”

“Ech,” Aelin waves a hand in dismissal. “Half the boys were in love with you, that’s why they hated you. And being my favourite came with nothing but good benefits.”

“It destroyed a years-long relationship between Ren and I,” Aedion can’t help but smile. “The rivalry started. We beat ech other in the hallways.”

“Well, Father was always rooting for you,” Aelin says simply, before her face collapses into sorrow at the word she hasn’t spoken in years.

The two cousins sit close, falling into silence once again as they contemplate the past.

“Aedion? I miss them.”

“I know, so do I.”

~~~

Neither Aelin or Aedion have left Aelin’s room.

It’s of no surprise to anyone with what will happen, with what they will all need to do at sunrise.

Both Rowan and Lysandra leave them be out of respect, only occasionally going in to offer food and to comfort their mates when Aedion and Aelin either ask for or seem to need it. Fenrys himself lounges on the bed in wolf form, occasionally resting his head on Aelin’s legs and nosing at Aedion, turning back into his fae form halfway through to chat before giving them their privacy once again.

No one needs to guess what they’re talking about.

The tear track that spread through their laughter, their sobs, are enough of a sign. No one dares to interrupt during these moments, to ask for elaboration on the stories they tell or to jab in with their own.

Gavriel visits late at night, when light is still shining from underneath the door.  
Lysandra and Rowan both found somewhere else to sleep, not wanting to seperate the cousins, no, the siblings during their mourning. That’s what they are, what they have been, during these last few days. They’ve always acted like siblings, yes, Chaol himself once pointing it out, but now no one can deny the bond that the two share. No one can deny that Aedion is like a brother to Aelin, or Aelin a sister to Aedion. To do so at this point in time would be an act of both cruelty and idiocy.

Slowly opening the door, Gavriel peeks into the room. A single light illuminates the room, showing the two people sprawled across the bed, blankets cast aside as Aedion rests on his back with Aelin half-sprawled across him. Gavriel inches into the room, his feet silent as he wills all sounds to flee.

Grabbing one of the discarded sheets he drapes it over them, noticing that both are shoe-less and have appeared to have worn the same clothes they least slept in all day. They’re curled around each other, faces tear soaked.

It warms his heart as well as cracks it.

Gavriel quietly leaves the room, shutting it behind him.  
But not before nodding to the two green eyes birds sitting on the window sill, dutifully watching over their mates.

~~~

The ceremony was beautiful.

The entire court stood to the front as the people gathered around the monument dedicated to Aelin’s parent, all the lords and ladies and everyone else in their family. The queen stood to the front, speaking of her parents bravery and dedication to the country. Of their generosity and kindness, of their love for the people, both human and fae. Of they wild joy for freedom and, most of all, their deep devotion to each other. She speaks of how her father set time aside for her, every week, never forgetting his daughter even when he had a kingdom calling for him. How her mother had gifted her with protection, both with her arms and words. How both of them stood by her when others marked her a monster in need of controlling. She speaks of how they loved fiercely and bravely, and fought for those that were devoted to until the very last breaths they breathed.  
By the end of it Aelin turns to Aedion, already crying, like so many people in both the crowd and her court. Elide keeps her head high, yet rivulets of tears run down her own cheeks as she rests her back against Lorcan’s front, allowing herself to be held.  
Her own parents memorials are only a few weeks away.  
So many more will follow.  
Lysandra holds Aedion’s hand until he steps up to speak to the people, holding on until the very last minute.

Aedion gives his own speech, his voice steady in such a way that his sureness and stability becomes one of his greatest lies. A speech detailing how generous they were to him, to accept him into the castle when he was nothing but a foreign prince that held no land, no title and no clear parentage. How Evalin had loved her cousin fiercely, taking in her son and protecting him without hesitation.  
He can’t call them his parents in the speech. Because they weren’t. Because he really is a bastard prince, a foreigner, that was granted access to the country he now stands in and to call the heirs to the throne his parents could be seen as a challenge to Aelin and a disgrace.

But Aelin knows. Gavriel knows. They and everyone else watching him speak knows.

Everyone watches the gleaming wall in anticipation, the grey stones impossibly polished and smooth to the touch, almost as if coated in glass. The four fire flowers shine brightly in the sun, almost as if they are four embers glowing in the centre of the sea.  
Water and fire. Rhoe and Evalin. An eternal mark of their presence on the country.

But for their funeral, for their days of remembrance, more shall be added to the display.

Throat bobbing, Aelin stands in front of the wall, golden jewellery gleaming and elegant dress shinning in the sunlight as the sun rises, bathing everything in its watery glow.

Raising her hands over her head she still, urging the water to come up, up, up.

And it does. A flow of water begins to run down the wall, the small veil of liquid giving the appearance that the grand structure is a waterfall standing in the middle of the open space. Lowering her hands, Aelin allows the plumping to do the rest of the work, eyes watering at the way water cascades down the smooth surface in an elegant form.  
Aedion steps up next to her, Rhoe’s sword and shield in each hand. Throat bobbing, tears shinning on his cheeks, he places the shield on the lower flower joints, then the sword above it. He steps back, the flowers gleaming proudly as they brandish the weapons. As the water falls the fire flowers gleam, both proud reminders of the two people who once stood for everything Terrasen now represents.

Evalin and Rhoe, as they always were and always should have been.

~~~

Aedion feels his footsteps lag as he walks through the hallways, the sun finally beginning to set on what had been a long day of speeches and condolences, meeting with different lords and people of Terrasen who wished to give their thanks.  
It was kind, very kind, but at the same time there was an urge to yell. To scream. To try to leave as fast as they all could to avoid the condolences, half of them being too real from citizens that also lost loved ones and the other half entirely too fake from some of the lords of Terrasen.

He stops as he turns the corner, freezing at the way Aelin is kneeling, leaning against a doorframe, arms wrapped around herself as she stares through the open door into the room beyond.

“Hey,” Aedion kneels next to her, looking into the room.

From where they kneel they can’t see the bed, but they can see the dresser against the wall and one of the rooms windows. Like Ren’s sisters room this one had been untouched, unravelled, left in it’s pristine position.

“I still haven’t been in here,” Aelin’s voice is worn out, hoarse, destroyed and wrecked. “I know, I know it’s not the bedroom I found them in, but…”

“I’ve never been in here,” Aedion admits.

Aelin jerks her head around to look at him. “Never? What about when you had nightmares-“

“I didn’t want to bother them,” Aedion can’t keep his voice from shaking, remembering the times he curled up in his own bed, terrified of stepping out of bounds. “I just stayed in my room. I thought that if I annoyed them, that if I bothered them too much…”

“They never would have given you up,” Aelin links his hand with hers. “Never. I don’t know why I can’t go in.”

“It’s their room,” Aedion tugs on her hand. “Their possession, their memories. Remembering can be painful.”

Steadily, Aelin stands. Aedion follows her movement, and, to his surprise, is pulled into the room with her.

It’s large, three windows adorning a wall with a large bed near the one at the end. Animal pelts, pelts hunted by Rhoe himself, layer the bed along with a thick coating of dust. A carpet, just as covered in dust, layers the floor underneath the bed to help feet escape the chill early in the morning. Jewellery litters the dressers, Evalin’s, while weapons hang off joints next to it on the wall, Rhoe’s. So many different pieces of the room connect to them, bring back memories of them. All the book and bows and arrows and clothes.

Strangely enough, the tears don’t come.

Not for an empty room so layered in dust it may as well be a tomb. There’s nothing left of the two in the room, all of their presence aged away. Days of crying, weeks, and yet this room so close to the passed away couple now feels as though it belonged to strangers.

“Let’s go,” Aelin tugs on Aedion’s hand, voice a quiet, devastated whisper. “There’s nothing left here for us.”

Something cracks in Aedion’s chest at that, at the fact that he missed out on something alive and joyful. But the look on Aelin’s face, the pale colouring of her skin with the devastation in her eyes, brings guilt crumbling down. At least he didn’t loose it like she did.

They step outside of the doorway, and Aedion’s breath catches in his throat when they spot Gavriel, just walking past. He freezes at the sight of the two of them, and, without hesitation, wraps his arms around the two cousins and holds them close.

Both Aelin and Aedion at first stiffen in his hold before relaxing, touched by his lack of hesitation and doubt when it came to comforting the two of them. Both of them refuse to sob, but do nothing to halt the tears springing and flowing down their cheeks. Aedion wraps an arm around his father, the other around Aelin, and closes his eyes. Aelin huddles into the hold in a way that’s so unlike her it nearly brings the sobs forward.

Aedion can’t help but feel as though something inside of him is made of glass, being broken and refused by the warmth created by his family again and again.

~~~

After a few minutes of being held by Gavriel, Aelin detached herself, Rowan quickly finding them and leading his mate away. Aedion and Aelin are reluctant to let each other go, yet as soon as she tilts into Rowan’s grip she allows him to lead him back to their room, and Aedion releases her, knowing that she’s safe with her mate.

Gavriel keeps an arm wrapped around Aedion, leading him to a small, abandoned stairwell. They sit on a step, Gavriel finally releasing his son and passing him a cloth to stop Aedion from wiping his nose with his hand.

“Thanks,” Aedion mumbles, wiping at his face.

“Are you alright?” Gavriel asks quietly, lifting his hand to place it on his son’s back.

To his surprise Aedion places his head in his hands, sobbing openly. Startled at the change, Gavriel, having never seen his son openly cry in such a way unless ill or incredibly intoxicated, wraps his arm fully around his son and holds him. It’s terrifying, to see someone who faced off against a valg prince and has been knee-deep in bloodshed since he was a child cry so easily.

“I’m selfish,” Aedion mumbles. “I’m so- so fucking selfish.”

“What?” Gavriel leans down to look his in the eyes, brows drawn together worriedly. “You’re not selfish.”

“I am,” Aedion gasps through his sobs, horrified. “I’m so selfish. So selfish. I always looked at Aelin, Evalin and Rhoe and felt like I was an outsider looking in but she lost them, she lost them and I have you as my father but she lost them and I’m so selfish for wishing I had more-“

It’s horrible, really, how instead of keeping up Gavriel’s mind pauses at the words ‘I have you as my father.’ Father. He tries to focus back on what Aedion is saying, panicked words and breathing becoming out of control as his son continuously runs his hands through his hair.

“I just,” Aedion’s voice is still wobbled thanks to the tears, “I just wanted to be a part of their family even though I knew I couldn’t be, not really, but Aelin lost them and I got you and I’m so selfish for looking back and still wanting more-“

“Aedion, breathe,” Gavriel commands, rubbing his back. “Just take a moment and breath.”

His son does just that, sucking in great hitching breaths as he scrubs furiously at his face. It makes Gavriel almost feel like weeping himself at the way his son has become so undone, grief consuming his very being.

“I’m here,” Gavriel murmurs, pulling his son close.

There’s nothing else he can say. He won’t utter ‘it’s alright’ when he knows that it isn’t. When he knows that at the moment nothing can really compensate for the sorrow his son feels. So he holds his son until Aedion’s breathing begins to even out, the tears not slowing but the sobs reining in.

“I’m so selfish,” Aedion closes his eyes, resting against Gavriel, his voice weak and shaking. “Just… so selfish.”

Contemplating, Gavriel keeps both arms wrapped around his son. “Would you like to talk about it? About them? I still have to learn about your childhood.”

Sucking in another breath, Aedion relaxes against his father. “Aelin and I always stuck together. The amount of people she burnt and I beat up thanks to them insulting either me or her was ridiculous.”

Gavriel resists rolling his eyes at that. “So they just allowed you to go around brawling with everyone?”

“Gods, no,” Aedion chokes out, almost a small laugh resting in the sound. “Anything like that would get me an extra hour or two on training. I didn’t care, I just wanted to beat the bastards that were shitty enough to actually be afraid of Aelin. She was eight, for gods sakes.”

“Right,” Gavriel slowly starts running his hand up and down Aedion’s back, a small smile playing out at his son’s protectiveness. “What did your training include?”

“Usually a full day’s worth of training with breaks for meals in-between,” it had been gruelling, some days, but now that he knows who his birth-father is it makes sense.

“A full day?” Gavriel tilts his head in confusion. “All physical training?”

“No. Lesson’s on warfare as well. Also some history and tactical lessons.”

“Right,” Gavriel mutters, beginning to see a pattern. “And friends?”

“Ren and I were close before it became apparent I was the preferred option for the blood oath,” Aedion shrugs, looking down. “After that, thanks to pressure from his father, our friendship turned more into a rivalry. We’d beat each other in the hallways; no one ever stopped them but Aelin told me that Rhoe was apparently rooting for me,” he smiles a little at the end, as if pleased by the secret fact.

“No one ever stopped the fights?” Gavriel frowns, yet still brings his hand up to smooth and run through Aedion’s hair, an action that always seems to sooth him.

He’s just honestly grateful his son is so open to him comforting him like this. The last time he did was when those Adarlan officials visited. He must be tormented if he’s allowing such close affection.

“No one did,” Aedion shrugs slightly in his grip. “As long as I kept up my training a little bit of competition didn’t hurt.”

“No one cared that you lost a friend?” Gavriel asks softly.

That question shocks Aedion into blinking and looking away. “It wasn’t about that. It was about making me as prepared for war as possible. It’s what kept me alive.”

Gavriel nods. He knows, he knows that it was necessary in order for his Aedion to live, but he can’t help but feel anger at the childhood his son missed out on. What if he had been here? Would he had been able to soothe Aedion’s anger as soon as it began? Convinced him to value his friend and not allow a rivalry to stand between them?  
Would Aedion have been broken-hearted when he died during the Adarlan siege?  
No. Now’s not the time to question the people who raised his son. Not on the anniversary of their death.

Tightening his arms around his son, Gavriel focuses on Aedion, his cub, instead. “Tell me more about your training.”

“Rhoe would,” Aedion releases a weak laugh, “Rhoe would set aside a time once a week to train with me one on one himself, just like he did with Aelin. Aside from that multiple lords and the captain of the guard would train me. Even when he wasn’t there Rhoe was aware of everything I was being trained in. I’d train with multiple weapons each with. A few days for sword, a few for staff, and I think archery near the end of the week, but different weapons would be rotated into the week so we covered everything. Sometimes Rhoe would take me on trips with him and his men and they’d all teach me how to hunt. Stories about you and the rest of the cadre were their favourite to tell me.”

“Right,” Gavriel laughs, remembering how Rowan had bragged. “I heard about that. So you did spend time with Rhoe.”

“Yes,” Aedion closes his eyes, relaxed by his father’s hand continuing to run through his hair. “And Evalin would sometimes ask me how I was, or spend time with Aelin and I when we snuck around together.”

“They sound fantastic,” Gavriel bends down to press his lips against the top of Aedion’s head for a moment before pulling back. “You must have had fond memories about them. Why did you feel like a guest looking in?”

The silence that follows worries Gavriel, and he thinks of another question to ask to break the tension.

“Once, I found Evalin in the library, drunk.”

Pausing, Gavriel looks at his son before starting again with his motions, hoping that it’s enough of an encouragement to continue.

“I asked if she was alright, and she said she was,” Aedion’s voice begins to tremble again. “I helped her stand up, and was trying to help get her back to her room. Halfway there she stopped and looked at me,” Aedion rubs his face against his father’s shoulder, the act so child-like it breaks Gavriel's heart. “She said ‘you look so much like her.’ It wasn’t the first time she said that but she just sounded so sad. And she said ‘I wish she hadn’t died, I wish she was still here. I miss her so much. I wish she had never,’ and then she looked at me and said _‘I wish you you had never.’_ And I just, I just started crying. She wished I had never, the female I viewed as an aunt at the very least, if not mother. And I took her back to the room, told Rhoe what she said, and he just… he just took her, and couldn’t even _look_ at me.”

Breath hitching, Gavriel clutches Aedion tight.

“It was because she died that they took me,” Aedion sobs quietly into his arms. “And I just, I just don’t know if I was anything but a weapon to them.”

“You would have been so much more,” Gavriel whispers against Aedion’s hair, tucking his son close. “You’re so much to so many people, Aedion. I’m sure that no matter what had happened that they loved you. What they did for you was proof of that.”

There is anger there. Anger at the childhood his child missed out on, anger at the words a drunk female let slip, anger at a male that may have trained his son so brutally that he questioned whether or not he was a weapon or child. But at the same time Gavriel knows that Evalin loved her cousin fiercely, and would have done anything to protect Aedion if necessary. That Evalin would have loved the boy she would have seen as her sisters child. That she would have looked at Aedion, much like Gavriel does, and seen the beautiful legacy of a wondrous woman.

“Your mother and Evalin were so close,” Gavriel continues to murmur. “She would have seen you as a nephew. And there’s no doubt that Aelin sees you as somewhat her brother. You’re loved by so many, Aedion. I’m sure that they loved you, and that’s why they tried their best to prepare you. Evalin was mostly likely missing your mother.”

And most likely wishing that Aedion wasn’t Gavriel’s son. That her cousin didn’t have to die just to avoid Aedion falling into Meave’s hands.

“Thank you,” Aedion sucks in small, shaky breaths. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“I love you,” Gavriel says simply, cupping the back of Aedion’s head with his hand. “It’s my job to help and comfort you when you need it.”

“No,” Aedion mumbles, significantly quieter. “Thank you for being my father.”

Gavriel feels his heart stutter.

“I know I didn’t make it easy for you,” Aedion continues, “and I’m still not. I know that. But thank you for taking care of and parenting me. Thank you for being my father.”

Throwing away his willpower Gavriel allows a few tears to slide through. Tears of pure relief, sorrow and joy.

“Thank the gods,” Gavriel laughs hoarsely, closing his eyes and smiling. “Thank the gods.”

“Sorry for being an asshole,” Aedion laughs a little as well.

“It’s alright,” Gavriel laughs, keeping Aedion close. “It’s all going to be alright.”

In a way, some things will be.

~~~

“Hands off,” Aedion glares, snatching chocolate away from Fenrys.

All of them are in the room they celebrated the holidays in, Aelin and Aedion curled up together in the couch, sharing the same blanket with a box of chocolates between them.  
It’s fair to say that the court may be spoiling the two a bit. It’s hard not to, with the wrecked state the two are in. Their mates along have been going crazy with their protective instincts on high.  
Lysandra even nearly at Fenrys an hour ago when he made a small joke to Aedion about finding a new shield and swords for the next few days as an attempt to gain a smile. It worked, slightly, but it didn’t stop Lysandra from showing him her teeth in warning, even if her mates smile did soothe her.  
It’s fair to says she’s been protective. And Rowan, who shattered a table over an issue he refuses to discuss.  
Fenrys turns to Aelin for support, who simply frowns and holds the box closer.

“Can’t get a single piece of chocolate,” Fenrys sighs, reclining back against the couch.

“No, you can’t,” Lysandra leans over, picking at one to pop it in her mouth. “But I can.”

Rolling at Fenrys’ gasp of betrayal and pleading eyes Aelin holds out the box. “Fine. Take one.”

He jumps forward at the chance, snatching his chocolate before collapsing back into his chair. Aedion takes three from the box, throwing them up in the air and catching one after another.

“You’ll choke,” Gavriel idly comments, admiring a picture book with Evangeline.

“I won’t,” Aedion rolls his eyes, throwing the third chocolate into his mouth. “See?”

Almost everyone rolls their eyes at that, Aelin just grinning and throwing a chocolate up into her own mouth.

For Rowan to snatch it out of the air and eat it instead.

Whipping around Aelin unleashes a snarl, so feral and loud that Aedion widens his eyes and grins in pure joy at the worry that flickers across Rowan’s face. It takes no time for Aelin to yank the box of chocolates further away from her mate and move closer to Aedion, both of them enjoying the delights together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 will include a request I got when a member of the court will be injured while travelling (not telling who, ha) and I'll include other requests too, so just ask!
> 
> As always just send a request and I'll write it in the next chapter x


	7. Bones, Paper, Sounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here's the chapter involving Aedion's education, Gavriel accidentally insulting him, and Gavriel meeting a woman who's terrified of meeting the court!
> 
> The next chapter will involve the trip to visit the grave of Aedion's mother!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry this is so late; I've been sick the last few days. I hope you enjoy!

9.

Aedion is on edge, as well as Aelin. Ever since Lysandra left with Fenrys and Gavriel to visit Elide in Perranth the two have been prowling the castle, snapping at others out of a strange sense of worry.

“When are they coming back?”

“Two days.”

“Two days? Shouldn’t it be faster?”

“No, it’s two days.”

“Are you sure, because it’s already been a week-“

“Two. Days,” Rowan pinches the bridge of his nose, looking away from Aelin and Aedion. “It will take two days. Two days, and Fenrys, Gavriel and Lysandra will be back, alright?”

“But-“

“Fleetfoot,” Rowan stands suddenly. “Why don’t you two take Fleetfoot for a walk? You always enjoy that.”

“They could have-“

“It’s a beautiful day,” Rowan has one hand on their back each, gently pushing them towards the door. “The sun is shining, the sky is clear, Fleetfoot would love to play some games and you two could burn off your energy.”

At once both cousins twist their heads around, scowling at Rowan as if personally offended. Which they are, technically.

“How old do you think we are?” Aedion snaps. “Five?”

“You? Yes,” Rowan glares. “Aelin you’re in charge.”

“Excuse me? You know I’m the older one, right?”

He ignores their protests as he shuts the door.

~~~

Sunlight streams through the canopy of trees, the three members of Terrasen’s court struggling through the undergrowth.

“See? There’s the palace. You’re going to be fine.”

The figure hanging between the two of them just groans.

~~~

“How’s my baby? Huh? How’s my girl?” Aelin asks, kneeling down and allowing Fleetfoot to climb upon her as she plays with her fluffy ears.

“Wanna play?” Aedion grins, hunkering down to roughly ruffle her coat. “We can play fetch with Aelin. I throw, you chase.”

“As if you wouldn’t be the one thrown,” Aelin snorts. “Can’t last a day without Lysandra around.”

“Like you aren’t missing them,” Aedion narrows is eyes. “You miss your second favourite puppy.”

Aelin says nothing to that, not even a word in Fenrys’ defence.

Barking, Fleetfoot runs around their feet, trotting happily next to them as they stroll down the garden path, red and white flowers blooming around them. She strays away to sniff at the buds, the cousins watching with small flowers as she pauses to roll around in a patch of grass.

“What about Gavriel and Lysandra?” Aelin raises a brow. “I was certain that they were both half of your impulse control each.”

“I lasted twenty-four years without them, didn’t I? I can do it again.”

“And that fire yesterday morning?”

Aedion stops, whirling around on her, clearly aghast. “That was you! I went in to put it out!”

“But did you succeed?” Aelin raises a brow.

Shaking his head, Aedion turns away. “I- no. We are not talking about this.”

“Fine,” Aelin rolls her eyes. “Deny your queen. I mean, it’s only-“

She cuts off at Fleetfoot’s frantic barking, the coarse sound breaking through the silence as she races ahead of them. Without hesitation Aelin and Aedion spring after her, darting around corners and Aelin even being forced to jump over a gardener.

Good thing she passed on wearing one of her elegant, lavish dresses.

Fleetfoot doesn’t stop until she’s rounded the corner of the side of the palace, barking at three people hobbling towards them.

Both Aelin and Aedion pale at the sight of blood, Aelin pausing in her running to call for guards while Aedion continues to fly towards them. Barely listening to the guards forging forward Aedion helps Lysandra and Gavriel lower Fenrys to the ground, the fae barking himself at the pressure on his clearly broken leg.

“I’m fine,” he pants, sweat beading his brow. “Just need a healer.”

“I didn’t have enough magic in me to heal the bone,” Gavriel mutters, aiding Aedion in lowering his friend. “The journey was long, and I had already healed Lysandra’s wrist-“

Without a moments pause Aedion whips around to Lysandra, allowing Gavriel to catch the cursing Fenrys before he falls the last few centimetres. “Your wrist?”

She holds up both hands, wriggling her fingers. “I’m perfectly fine. Gavriel healed me well, though he should have saved the last of his magic to aid Fenrys.”

“If I knew a damn hunter,” Fenrys growls, “was going to pull a trap on me I wouldn’t have turned into a wolf!”

“A hunter hurt you?” Aelin’s eyes flash as she stalks towards them, kneeling by Fenrys’ side. “Who are they? Where did you find them?”

Everyone besides Fenrys and Aelin give a little wince at that. It’s no secret that the queen is protective of the wolf, just as he is of her. Since Fenrys started turning into his wolf form, something he did in order to rip out the throat of someone threatening Aelin, he’s been slowly relaxing once again. It warmed all their hearts to see some strain leak from the wolf, his laughs and smiles becoming more genuine and less faked.  
If this attack, this injury by a hunter, has any negative effect on Fenrys’ comfortability in turning into a wolf then Aelin will be on a man hunt.  
And Gavriel, Lorcan, Vaughan and Rowan by no doubt. They knew Fenrys, helped train him, and in no doubt will want to defend someone who used to be their student. Gavriel himself has a stiff and clenched jaw, a small flow of agitation waving from him.

A healer immediately returns with the guards along with Vaughan, using magic to heal Fenrys’ leg while everyone watches closely. Soon the wolf is able to stand, albeit limping, and is slowly led to his room with Vaughan’s support.

“Alright,” Aelin sucks in a deep breath, running her taught hands through her hair. “I’m going to go keep an eye on Fenrys. The healer did what she could but he’ll still need to rest. Aedion, you take over the investment dealings in trade. Fenrys was going over that, but I want him to rest so you take over those finances.”

Both Gavriel and Lysandra notice the way Aedion hesitates slightly before agreeing. They share a glance, Gavriel raising a brow and Lysandra resisting a smile. They’ll quiz him together later.

It’s one of their favourite activities to do together, after all.

~~~

“I need your help,” Aedion murmurs to Rowan, hands braced on the table as he leans forward, eyes darting around frantically. “I’m being watched.”

Immediately the king of Terrasen sits upright, leaning towards his brother-in-arms (and in-law, if you ask anyone in the inner-circle). “Assassins?”

“My father and mate,” Aedion deadpans, horribly serious.

“Go eat, Aedion,” Rowan turns away, unimpressed.

“I don’t know what they want,” Aedion hisses, obviously panicked. “For some reason this happens sometimes; I can’t turn away without one of them there! It’s as if I’m being herded, or preyed upon!”

Rowan tries to swallow back a laugh. He knows very well that Gavriel and Lysandra both plan and strategise against Aedion from time-to-time. They make quiet the team.

“I’m sure it’s all just a coincidence,” Rowan keeps a straight face, internally cackling at his suffering. “Just go talk to your father, maybe that will rectify it. Or Lysandra. Either one of the two will do.”

He doesn’t know when they all started openly referring to Gavriel as Aedion’s father instead of just by his name. Aedion’s acceptance of Gavriel has given the Lion a new title, one that every member of the court can see Gavriel light up at every time it’s used. It’s nice to see his eldest friend beam every time he is referred to as Aedion’s father, even more so when Aedion is the one who does it himself.

“Thank you for helping me,” Aedion glares, sliding back. “Talking to the very people I’m purposefully avoiding is a fantastic suggestion.”

“And why are you avoiding them?”

“Because they want something! Information, a deal, something!” Aedion insists.

“Right,” Rowan nods, while secretly waving, leaning to the side so that Aedion doesn’t see the action occurring behind his back. “So tell me, when did this strange behaviour begin?”

He doesn’t actually give a shit, but he needs to stall.

“It started this morning,” Aedion places his head in his hands, voice exhausted. “I woke up, and Lysandra was strangely attentive. As soon as I left I ran into Gavriel here, at the dining hall. Then as soon as I left Lysandra was waiting at the rings for me to spar, and kept pestering me with questions. I left to go over and complete Fenrys’ work, but Gavriel was waiting there for me. As soon as I finished a came here, but it was as if they were both waiting for me around every corner! I have to tell you, Rowan, that I don’t know if I can relax while-“

“Aedion.”

It shocks both Rowan and Gavriel at the way Aedion jumps and yells at his father’s hand on his arm. Rowan leans back, glancing from Gavriel to Aedion and back again, clearly startled at Aedion’s reaction.

Who knew the general could get this wound up.

“Are you alright?” Gavriel asks Aedion, concern written across his face as he sits next to his son, a hand braced on Aedion’s shoulder.

One hand clasped to his heart Aedion nods, breathing heavily as he stares wide-eyed at his father, leaning away slightly.

“Alright,” Gavriel says, clearly not believing him with the incredulous look he gives. “I was wondering if we could talk?”

Swallowing thickly, Aedion nods, hand still gripping above his heart.

“Alone.”

Aedion winces. As if the request couldn’t get any worse, he now knows that the topic at hand is a serious one. As he leads his son away Gavriel has to bite the inside of his cheek, glancing at a green-eyed mouse that watched Aedion’s reaction from a nearby table.

It’d be mean to laugh.

So they’ll do it together later. Not that Gavriel told her what he found in the office; no, he’ll leave that to Aedion to explain.

“I realised that you were going to give the investment lists to an official,” Gavriel steps into the office with Aedion in tow, gesturing to the papers strewn out across the desk, “but then I looked at them myself.”

He picks up a sheet, looking at his son with concern after he takes in the investment and insurance rates as well as taxes. “Aedion, you didn’t get a single thing right.”

Looking away, Aedion’s jaw stiffens. “I usually just let an official do it, or go over it with me.”

Gabriel further looks through the papers, baffled at the amount of crossed out and scribbled equations. “Do you not know how to do this? Shouldn’t you have learnt?”

Aedion keeps his arms crossed and back straight, still stubbornly looking away. “It wasn’t exactly easy to continue my education while a war and invasion was breaking out.”

The realisation slaps Gavriel in the face. “Aedion-“

“I was thirteen,” Aedion’s hands tighten on his arms. “It wasn’t as if I knew nothing. I was one of the lucky ones considering children such as Elide were left without the ability to read. Along the way through the war I also learnt basic math, as well as languages and geography and how to be a tactician. I know politics and laws like the back of my hand considering I’ve dabbled with treason and kings and queens. But there was never a need for me to learn this. My job was never to work through taxes or investments. Or insurance. It makes no sense! I mean the rates and how they can apparently rise or fall and the fact that the sums are just so large-“

“Alright,” Gavriel jumps in, watching Aedion sag against the desk, rubbing at his face as if tired. “Aedion, why didn’t you simply tell any of us you don’t understand different components of math?”

“Because you all do,” Aedion keeps his gaze averted, anger clear through the clenching of his jaw. “Aelin and Lysandra both gained detailed educations. You and Rowan and the others are hundreds of years old with knowledge. I don’t know how-“ Aedion pauses for a moment, swallowing before forcing the words forward. “I don’t know how to explain that my education was rudimentary at best even though I’m a general helping to lead this country.”

“I think it’s clear, as seen both through you and Elide, that smarts don’t just come from academics,” Gavriel raises his brows. “You were right in saying you were one of the lucky ones. Right now out of your generation you may be one of the ones with a higher standing of education.”

Something they’ll have to work on. There are too many people who missed on education and other means to survive. But as always the persistence of the people never ceases to amaze, the citizens trooping forward to gain a richer future for their children.

“You could have just asked for help,” Gavriel shrugs.

He knows Aedion couldn’t have, not with how stubborn he is.

“Right,” Aedion runs a hand over his neck, still not looking Gavriel in the eye. “Just... please don’t tell Lysandra. I don’t want her to know.”

Shaking his head, Gavriel frowns. “Aedion-“

“I don’t think understand how shameful it feels,” his son looks at him clearly then, “to sit with your cousin and mate and barely understand a word they’re saying in terms of the state of your country.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Gavriel nods. “Alright. I believe that you should tell her instead of suffering in silence-“

-‘thanks to your own damn pride,’ he doesn’t add-

“-but I’ll help you,” Gavriel offers. “If you’d like.”

Relief clears Aedion’s face. “I would like that. In all honestly I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

“I could tell when you started scribbling down dates to try to see who out of Rowan and I is older.”

“You both say you’re in your five-hundreds. That gives almost a hundred year span to differ from!”

“Now you have aptitude at math,” Gavriel smiles, sliding into the desks seat and sorting through the papers, grabbing out a pen to point out where Aedion went wrong and offer correct methods and solutions.

Aedion drags a seat around to sit next to him, dutifully watching as Gavriel explains which methods fit which problems and what steps Aedion skipped.

After a moment of silence Aedion speaks up. “Would you have helped me with schoolwork like this if you lived here, with us, when I was a child?”

Gavriel pauses for barely a second before continuing. “Undoubtedly. I also would have stopped you from literally brawling in the hallways.”

Laughing, Aedion tips back in his chair. “How different do you think I’d be, if I had been raised by you?”

This time Gavriel does pause, looking over to his son. “I don’t know what you were like before the war broke out, but I have no doubt in my mind that you have always been a wild spirit.”

A small smile tugs at Aedion’s mouth. It’s the truth, but they both know what Gavriel won’t say. That Aedion would have been less angry, less explosive and stubborn. That he may have grown to be a male at peace with himself and others instead of one at constant war. That patience may have been sewn into his bones instead of rage.

But neither of them say that. They simply let the truth hang between them, a truth that lurks too closely to saying ‘you would have been better.’

At least in Aedion’s mind that’s what it would be. That’s the truth he’s been contemplating.

Gavriel for his part meant what he said; Aedion is a wild spirit. To see him subdued in any way would be heartbreaking. His truth is a far cry from his son’s.

“I would have been better, I think,” Aedion says quietly, allowing his truth to spread free.

Gavriel clicks his tongue, turning back to the papers. “No. I think you would have turned out exactly as you are now. I mean it when I say you’re a wild spirit; I would have done nothing but encouraged that, and I have no doubt that you would have ended up to be the exact same untameable person you are now. The only difference is that once the war broke out I probably would have done everything within my power to escape with you.”

Aedion swallows down a lump of emotion in his throat. “Thank you.”

“You wouldn’t have been better, Aedion,” Gavriel shakes his head, tapping the . “You still would have been you. There are core parts of a person you would never want to change, and I believe that you will always be whoever you are meant to be.”

“There’s the philosophical bullshit Fenrys was talking about,” Aedion smirks after a moment.

Gavriel rolls his eyes. “Just for that I’m teaching you some philosophy.”

“You really don’t-“

“That’s my price for teaching you math,” Gavriel smiles, looking over to his son. “I teach you numbers you learn the discussions of life and morals.”

“Ech.”

“You may enjoy it.”

“If I can sit still long enough to read it,” Aedion rolls his own eyes, then grins. “By the way, you’ve been receiving a hell of a lot of letters lately. More reading material?”

Hesitating, Gavriel places his pen down, turning his seat around to face Aedion and clasping his hands. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

“Right,” Aedion’s brows furrow at the sudden change in atmosphere.

“The last time I went to Perranth, before the visit last week, I met a woman,” Gavriel clears his throat. “We have been sending letters to each other, and last week on our trip I saw her again. She’s coming to Orynth for a short time and I thought that perhaps everyone could meet her, though I’d like to introduce you two to each other first.”

Aedion blinks at his father’s statement and the worried look he receives. “All right. We’d all be glad to meet her, you should know that.”

“It’s just,” Gavriel hesitates, “I know we made plans to visit your mothers grave in a few months time, and I don’t want you to feel betrayed in any way with me possibly starting a new relationship.”

“Are you cancelling the trip?”

“No-“

“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Aedion shrugs. “I’ll admit that once I... I would have felt betrayed. My anger towards you would have raged at the idea of you finding peace with another female after what you did to my mother.”

“And now?” Gavriel asks quietly.

Aedion shrugs again, looking down. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Aedion.”

“I mean it. I don’t expect you to mourn my mother forever. It’s difficult, to accept the idea of you starting a serious relationship with another woman, but I never even really knew of your relationship with my mother to begin with,” Aedion appears as lost as Gavriel feels. “You don’t deserve to be lonely forever. In the past I would have felt furious and betrayed, but I don’t now.”

Gavriel studies his son closely. “Really?”

Aedion catches the look. “Gods, yes. You’re allowed to be in a relationship. It wasn’t as if my mother and you were together long or married anyway.”

“I did love your mother, Aedion,” Gavriel’s voice drops into the stern tone it sometimes adopts. “I loved her with all my heart.”

“Which is why I’m fine with you seeing a female,” Aedion stresses the point, ignoring the way his fathers admittance of love causes his heart to ache. “I’d love to meet her. It’s been nineteen years; you deserve to move on.”

“But you didn’t know until too long ago,” Gavriel reminds him gently, gold eyes soft. “Your knowledge of my relationship with your mother is still quite new.”

“Yet I’m fine,” Aedion’s own voice drops into a flat, exasperated tone as he sits back in his chair. “I’d love to meet this female. Besides, what were you going to do if I wasn’t fine with it? Leave her?”

“Yes.”

The admittance nearly knocks Aedion out of his chair, and he stares at his father. Gavriel simply shrugs and stares back.

“I- don’t do that,” Aedion blinks. “I’d be fine with any female you date.”

“That’s not the issue,” Gavriel sits back. “I’m not going to pursue a relationship with someone who does not like my son, or who you do not like.”

“I haven’t even met her yet!” Aedion growls. “I’m sure I will if you like her enough to introduce her to everybody.”

“I know,” Gavriel winces. “It’s just that she’s quite nervous about meeting you all.”

“You said she lives in Perranth. What does she do?”

“Works for the city…”

“Great,” Aedion claps his hands together. “Basically an employee of Elide!”

“That doesn’t help.”

“Just tell me what she does.”

After moments hesitation, Gavriel waves his hands towards the papers. “This. Investments, taxing, math.”

“Alright,” Aedion grins. “So she helps handle the cities finances. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“It’s more of the fact that I can’t keep putting her off,” Gavriel mutters, turning away. “You can only be injured or missing so many times.”

“I greatly resent that. I could also be travelling to visit our allies, but it’s your own fault for not thinking of better excuses.”

~~~

“So,” Aedion keeps glancing at his father, “excited? Nervous?”

“Both,” Gavriel sighs, very nearly pacing the entrance way.

They both stand outside the entrance to the palace, waiting for Gavriel’s female friend to arrive. Avila is her name, a fact Aedion had to nearly wrangle out of Gavriel. The rest of the court is on standby to meet her tomorrow, understanding (though still complaining) that Gavriel would rather she meet Aedion first then everyone else later. Apparently her nerves have been high thanks to the idea of meeting her queen and a court filled with deadly warriors.  
Why, nobody can guess.  
Gavriel just turns away from them all when they say so, exasperated.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Aedion grins wickedly. “It’s not as if we’re going to actually throw her off the balcony.”

Gavriel pauses, turning to frown at his son. “What do you mean ‘actually’?

“What?”

“You said ‘actually,’ which suggests that you’ll make it seem as though you will,” Gavriel very nearly scowls. “Aedion, please don’t insinuate that you want to throw her off a balcony. I can’t stress that enough. If you’re uncomfortable with meeting her-“

“I’m not and I won’t!” Aedion holds his hands up, rolling his eyes. “But look, you’re distracted, right? And here she is.”

Turning around Gavriel smiles at the female walking through the palace entrance. She wears a cream and tan coloured dress, simple but elegant. Her starting-to-grey brown hair is plaited loosely over her shoulder and her brown eyes crinkle as she smiles back at Gavriel.

“Gavriel,” Avila smiles, stepping forward.

“Avila,” Gavriel bows his head in recognition, accepting her hug.

“You must be Aedion,” Avila beams at the Wolf of the North, turning to bow. “It’s a pleasure and an honour.”

Aedion grins brightly, taking her hand and dipping his head. “You really don’t need to bow, but it’s likewise a pleasure to meet you as well.”

Avila laughs laughter, shaking her head. “You have lovely manners.”

“Don’t let them fool you,” Aedion smiles, lowering his voice to a whisper, “I’m a brute, I swear.”

“But that must be more fun,” Avila eyes gleam, her smile playful.

“Now that I can’t deny,” Aedion nods, immediately taking a liking to the free-appearing woman that turns to laugh with Gavriel once again.

“I hope I won’t bore you too badly,” Avila walks by his side, “I’m afraid that most of my conversations are number and politics based.”

“I’m all for politics,” Aedion smiles. “Better to talk about the sinners then the devils numbers.”

It earns another laugh from Avila, Gavriel nearly sagging in relief at the lack of tension between the two.

“You know,” Avila smiles widely, “I’d have to say that I quite agree with those names. Though I don’t mind the sinners or devils numbers very much.”

“I guess we’re all saints then,” Aedion smiles charmingly, Avila shaking her head in amusement.

“You never told me how amusing or charming your son is,” she smiles at Gavriel.

He raises his brows. “I must have forgotten.”

“You always leave out my best qualities,” Aedion sighs, shaking his head.

They walk into the palace, Gavriel sending his son a glance as Aedion continues to chat politely and holds the door open for Avila. His son just raises his brows, and gives a wide grin before following the woman through.

~~~

“I like her,” Aedion comments to Aelin, spread out on his cousin’s couch in her room. “She’s relaxed, and doesn’t seem to be one to judge.”

“That’s good,” Aelin calls out from the bathroom. “I don’t understand why he wanted her to meet you first. I heard she was nervous; why would you be the first choice?”

“Better then a fire-breathing bitch queen,” Aedion calls back, tucking his hands behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. “I do like her, though, and I think she’s less afraid of me then she was at the start so that’s a bonus.”

“I’m surprised Gavriel actually wants us to meet her,” Aelin grins, drying her hair in the bathroom. “Maybe he doesn’t actually like her if he’s trying so hard to scare her off.”

“Shut up,” Aedion smirks, just as the bedroom door opens.

Rowan freezes as he walks into the room, immediately settling his gaze on Aedion, who waves from where he lounges on their couch.

“Aelin?” Rowan turns towards the bathroom. “I thought we agreed no pets in the bedroom?”

He earns a vulgar gesture from the demi-fae on the couch. “You aren’t getting rid of me or Fleetfoot that easily.”

Rowan glares. “The difference is that one of you is nothing but a pain and the other takes up all the space in the bed.”

“I get nightmares,” Aedion smiles sweetly.

Snorting, Rowan throws a towel at his head, which Aedion easily catches, and walks towards his wardrobe. “Why are you in here?”

“He’s telling me about Gavriel’s new friend!” Aelin’s voice rings out from the bathroom, her grin apparent in her tone.

Rowan immediately turns to Aedion, curiosity clear. “Who is she? What’s she like?”

“Her name is Avila, she’s very kind and was lovely to me,” Aedion smiles, “and I was lovely and polite to her, so you can eat your fucking words.”

Glaring, Rowan turns away, swearing under his breath.

“I don’t know why you all thought I’d be a beast to her,” Aedion snorts. “I’m charming when I want to be.”

“Of course,” Aelin grins as she walks into the room, sitting on the edge of her bed. “That famous Ashryver charisma.”

“A brilliant family trait,” Aedion purrs, being rewarded with a smirk.

“I’ve married into a madhouse,” Rowan mutters, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Aelin frowns at the closed door. “I’ll bet you anything he’s the reason why Avila is nervous.”

“Oh, definitely. The rest of us are perfect.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

~~~

“Just relax,” Gavriel murmurs to Avila, stepping a little closer as they walk to the dining hall. “It’s just a meal, and I’m sure they’ll love you. Aedion already does.”

She sends a nervous smile. “I quite like him, he’s charming and polite for his age.”

Gavriel’s eyes slowly slide to the side. “Yes, he is…”

They step into the dining hall, the Terrasen court sitting at their usual table. Avila follows Gavriel, sharing a small smile with Aedion before turning to the rest.

“Your Majesties,” she bows deeply to Aelin and Rowan. “Thank you for honouring me with your time.”

“Anything for Uncle Kitty Cat,” Aelin smiles, then snaps to a growling Aedion, “I’m allowed to say that now!”

Smiling tentatively, Avila sits next to Gavriel and nods at the plate that’s placed in front of her.

“So,” Fenrys grins, leaning forward. “Tell us the story of how you two met.”

“When trading financial paper,” Gavriel answers dryly. “Now sit back and stop showing your teeth.”

Scowling, Fenrys glances to him before looking away. “Finances. You know, going through trading documents are usually my task.”

“To keep you distracted,” Vaughan mumbles, earning a glare.

“Because I’m good at it,” Fenrys sits back, arms crossed.

“Where do you live?” Rowan asks.

“Perranth.”

“Permanent residence?”

Avila hesitates momentarily. “For the time being, yes, however I’ve been receiving offers to work elsewhere…”

“Really?” Gavriel smiles at her. “That’s fantastic.”

“Where?” Vaughan quizzes her. “Here in Orynth? Someone still in Terrasen? Or are you switching countries?”

Avila hesitates. “I don’t know if I will take any offers yet-”

“How do you receive offers?” Evangeline asks curiously. “Do they ask you to come and work through their numbers?”

Avila smiles brightly at her, an action that causes Evangeline to smile back. “That’s exactly it. If they like what I’ve done with my current work they’ll consider taking me on themselves.”

“So you have financial stability then?” Fenrys tilts his head. “You’re able to support yourself and, say, a single fae male parent and his child?”

“Alright,” Aedion stands suddenly, glaring at Fenrys out of the corner of his eye. “Avila, why don’t you come with me to grab some food from the table over there?”

“Right, I would love to,” she sends everyone a strained smile before standing with her plate, following Aedion to the table heavy with delights.

Everyone watches as the two stand by the table, chatting to each other as they pile food upon their plates. The court watches them with a calculating gaze, relaxing slightly when Aedion laughs heartedly at something she says.

“I can’t believe Aedion isn’t the most uncomfortable person here,” Lysandra mumbles, she herself quite protective of the Lion, having spent a few periods of her day spying on the female in the form of small animals. “Would have thought he’d be uncomfortable with her, or at the very least uninterested.”

“I know,” Gavriel breathes. “But he seems to quite like her.”

“So,” Fenrys sips at his drink, gesturing to the two at the table, “first Lucia and now her. I suppose you must have a thing for brown-haired females, huh?”

Blinking, Gavriel slowly turns away from watching his son to stare at Fenrys. “Yes, I clearly have a thing for brown-haired females. Look at my son, Fenrys. Look at my blond, golden-haired son and guess again whether or not I have a thing for brown-haired females. Dear gods.”

“Well, someone’s stressed and sassy,” Fenrys mumbles, turning away, a cup tilted to his lips.

“I’m just a little surprised,” Rowan mumbles to his eldest friend, leaning in close. “With your plans to visit Aedion’s mother’s grave I didn’t expect for you to become so interested in females at this time.”

Gavriel shrugs, rubbing a hand over his face as if to relieve the tension there.

Aelin raises her brows at Rowan and mouthes ‘rebound.’

He glares and shakes his head.

“What did we miss?” Avila asks, returning with Aedion.

“Nothing important,” Gavriel smiles, taking her hand as she sits.

The rest of the evening goes smoothly, people chatting and answering each other’s questions. Avila bidding everyone goodnight as Gavriel walks her to her rooms.

“I had a lovely evening,” she smiles up at Gavriel, allowing her hand to slip into his. “Aedion is a gem.”

“Yes,” Gavriel smiles, the action only a little fake. “He was… incredibly polite.”

“You sound surprised?”

“Oh, no,” Gavriel quickly laughs. “It’s nothing. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“I’m glad I came,” Avila turns the corner. “So, what about the trip?”

“What trip?”

“The one Fenrys said he had planned to go to Perranth again.”

About to turn the corner Aedion stops, grinning at the way he can hear Gavriel and Avila only a few hallways away. He stops, preparing to turn back, knowing that if he wonders any closer he’ll be able to hear their conversation.

“Ah,” Gavriel sighs. “That trip.”

However, at Gavriel’s words of the trip he stops and, using his fae hearing, listens instead of moving to a distance where he is unable to understand them.  
Screw it. He’s been good for the last few days. Listening in for a few minutes won’t kill anyone.

“Are you looking forward to it?” Avila asks.

“Hardly.”

Aedion blinks and jolts at Gavriel’s words. He was under the opinion that his father also wanted to visit his mothers grave.

“Why not?” Avila asks Aedion’s question for him.

“He has a knack for knowing how to irritate me after long periods of time. He enjoys it.”

Hesitating, Aedion takes another step back. Perhaps he should have realised what a strain his presence can put on his father, especially considering Gavriel and he have only started spending longer periods of time together. But Gavriel thinking that Aedion tries to purposefully annoy him?  
What has Aedion been doing wrong to give him that idea?

Avila chuckles slightly, something that also sends a cold shiver of dread. “I can imagine, if that’s not too rude to say.”

“Not at all.”

That’s also a shock; he was under the impression that Avila liked him.

“I also have to ask; Aedion’s abilities with numbers... he didn’t seem to grasp many of the topics I was talking about.”

“Right,” Aedion can practically hear his father fidgeting. “The war broke out in the middle of his education; there was no real need for him to learn about finances.”

Some of the dread turns to anger. Aedion can see that his father enjoys the company of Avila, but to go as far as to say Aedion’s secret, to dismiss their visit to his mothers grave-  
He turns on his heel and storms away.

~~~

Rowan frowns at Aedion, who lays on his bed with a torn up pillow in his hands. “I may regret asking this, but why are you in my bed and appear to have mauled one of my pillows?”

“Would you rather I maul someone?” Aedion growls, tightening his grip on the fabric, eyes bright with anger.

“No,” Rowan crosses his arms and leans back against a dresser, familiar with the anger that so many demi-fae Aedion’s age produce. “I take it you’re waiting to talk to Aelin?”

Aedion simply relaxes back into the centre of the bed.  
You’d think he’d at least have the decency to only take up Aelin’s side. But no. Rowan inhales a deep breath to grab a rein on his own anger.

“What’s this about, Aedion?” Rowan finally asks.

It could be easier to leave it to Aelin, she herself probably holding plenty of complaints to share with her cousin in return, but it’s been a while since Rowan has seen his brother-in-arms this conflicted.

Aedion’s jaw tenses as he thinks over the words to use. “Gavriel may be sick of my company, and I should have noticed it earlier.”

Rowan’s interest greatly perks at that. He could tell Aedion that he’s being ridiculous. He could tell Aedion that after he does any kind of activity with Gavriel his father describes it in detail for long periods of time to his other former-cadre members. He could tell Aedion that there’s no way for Gavriel to be sick with him when Gavriel is happy for days after he spends time with his son.

But he doesn’t, not when he needs to first understand how Aedion could come to that assumption. “Why would you think that?”

“I overheard him talking in the hallway with Avila. Apparently he thinks I enjoy annoying him and he isn’t looking forward to our trip.”

Rowan sinks into a chair. There’s no possible outcome where his friend wouldn’t wish to spend time with his son, or where Gavriel isn’t preparing for the trip to visit Aedion’s mother’s grave. It’s all the Lion has been planning for the last few weeks.

“Talk to Gavriel, Aedion,” Rowan advices. “Talk to your father, Aedion. I guarantee that it’ll end up clearing whatever mistakes you have stumbled across.”

“Right,” Aedion glares, and stands, making to leave the room. “Thank you for your sagely advice.”

“You’re welcome.”

Of course, now Aelin will have to complain to Rowan, her nightly complain session with her cousin cancelled.

Perfect.

At least his bed is free.

~~~

“Aedion!” Avila smiles, catching him in the hallway. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Aedion flashes one of his best smiles, her own showing of teeth disarming him as he tries to fight off any aggression he may feel towards her.

After all, it’s Gavriel who he’s confused by.

“I was just talking to Gavriel,” Avila says as she falls into step besides him. “He’s in the library, if you’re wondering.”

“I see,” Aedion nods, not bothering to mention that he heard them chatting around the corner from the room. “Interesting conversation?”

Laughing slightly, Avila shakes her head. “He’s quite aggrieved by the idea of travelling with Fenrys again. He’s not looking forward to the next trip.”

Oh. Aedion blinks, falling silent. Oh.

That makes more sense.

But…

His father still told her about his trouble and cut-off education, even when he said that he didn’t want Aelin or Lysandra to know.

“Thank you,” Aedion smiles at Avila, dipping his head in acknowledgement. “Are you retiring for the night?”

“I might,” she puffs out a breath. “It’s been quite a long, interesting day.”

He bids her goodnight, and heads to the library.

~~~

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Gavriel blinks at his son, looking up from his book.

“I said I’m sorry.”

“I know, but what f-“

“Just accept my apology!” Aedion scowls, already aggrieved with having to force out the words, his stubborn pride nearly hauling them back.

“Alright,” Gavriel says slowly, concerned, as he closes his book and sits up in the chair. “But what-“

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s hard not to,” Gavriel gives his son a bemused look at the way Aedion has his arms crossed, a scowl firmly in place. “Is this about how you overheard Avila and I talking? It’s fine; I understand that it’s been difficult for you to block out sounds with your heightened hearing. You were far away enough that it couldn’t have been intentional.”

“You knew?”

“You're my son. Your scent is easy for me to pick up on,” Gavriel places his book on the table, still smiling with humour. “If that’s what’s been worrying you then it’s fine, you don’t need to be so adamant about apologising.”

Sucking in a breath, Aedion tries to steady himself. It’s difficult to maintain anger when his father is already two steps ahead in this conversation.

“I also wanted to apologise for telling Avila about your cut off in education,” Gavriel sighs, looking his son in the eye. “I struggled to lie to her, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry, I understand that you must be angry with how uncomfortable her knowing may be.”

Aedion stares for a moment, then growls and shakes his head. “You are making it really fucking hard to be angry.”

“Then don’t be angry.”

He can practically see his son’s mind slow to a stop at that, trying to process the unfamiliar words in shock as Aedion blinks at him.

“I am sorry, though,” Gavriel places his hands on Aedion’s shoulders, gaze earnest. “I know that it must have angered you. I can’t pretend to know how you feel, but it’s never my intention to cause you discomfort or pain.”

Stooped, Aedion blinks at his father again, scowl replaced with a slightly bewildered gape. “Shit, you make arguing difficult.”

“We’re not arguing,” Gavriel fights back a smile, failing miserably. “Is that what you where expecting?”

“I…” Aedion shrugs slightly with Gavriel’s hands still on his shoulder. “Yes?”

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Gavriel steps back, gently mussing his son’s hair with one hand.

Again, Aedion blinks at the soft touch, looking as though he’s been whacked in the skull and unsteady. Gavriel claps his son’s shoulder before leaving, walking out of the library.

He really shouldn’t laugh at his son’s antics as much as he does, but he can’t help but chuckle.

~~~

“I- You’re leaving?”

“Yes,” Avila holds his hand gently between her own, looking up at him with a pained expression. “I’ve been excepted to help with the records at Antica. It’s an offer that I just can’t turn down.”

“I understand,” Gavriel nods slowly, cupping her hands in his own. “Is it selfish of me to wish that you could stay?”

“No,” Avila smiles slightly. “Not selfish. For what it’s worth, I really did enjoy my time with you.”

“And I with you.”

~~~

Two days later, she leaves. Gavriel watches her go, his son, niece (and queen, for Aelin’s been mixing up titles lately) and former cadre-members standing by his side as they watch her go.

“You have really bad luck when it comes to females."

“Shut up, Fenrys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will involve the trip to visit the grave of Aedion's mother, and meeting Aedion's uncles!
> 
> I'm also thinking of doing a modern day au on a seperate fic if anyone's interested in something like that.


	8. Waves, Sun, Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavriel and Aedion finally visit Aedion's mother, a trip that was long overdue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the newest chapter! Don't forget to comment in requests and likes!

10.

Aedion shifts away from where a man throws his guts up over the side of the deck, wincing as the smell hits his fae senses. It’s a side effect that comes with travelling on a common boat. They could have taken a ship from the Terrasen fleet, a private ship just for Aedion and Gavriel to travel on, but that would have caused to much suspicion as to where they were going. And using a private ship for such a personal matter seemed like a misuse of the countries resources.  
However, it doesn’t change the fact that travelling with a few strangers is unpleasant. Instead of sleeping in the hull Gavriel and Aedion have taken to sleeping up on deck under the stars, both under the pretence of ‘guarding’ the ship and needing their space. The humans don’t seem to mind, eyeing the two large fae males with apprehension whenever they draw near.  
But the seasickness is overwhelming.  
Trying to flee the smell, Aedion joins Gavriel where he stares over the side of the ship, admiring the rolling, blue mass of flesh that stretches out in front of them.

“How are you feeling?” Gavriel asks, using a smile to cover his grimace at the man retching behind them.

“Fine,” Aedion leans against the railing, trying to move away from the smell.

Placing a hand on his son’s chest, Gavriel gently pushes him off the creaking wood. “Careful, the last thing we need is for you to tip overboard.”

“I can swim,” Aedion throws a rakish grin.

“I have no doubt of that,” Gavriel rolls his eyes, turning away. “How have you been lately?”

“I’m fine.”

“Every time you say ‘I’m fine’ I get the urge to jump off this ship,” Gavriel raises a brow. “And throw you in as well.”

Aedion chokes on a laugh. “That’s dramatic.”

“You don’t just get it from your mother,” Gavriel smiles, yet it slowly melts off his lips.

Aedion’s mother. The reason they’re going to Wendlyn in the first place. It had been difficult, to make the decision to visit her grave. It was a moment of swallowing feelings as they planned the trip, as Aedion sent the letter to Galan, asking if they could stay the night in Varese before heading to the small, sea side town where she had raised Aedion for the first five years of his life. In a small house, set just a little aside from the town along the beach.

“We have plenty of money to find other accomodation if you don’t feel comfortable staying at the castle,” Gavriel offers, staring out at the horizon.

Aedion sucks in a deep breath, shaking his head. “No. We’ll arrive late and leave early, so it’s unlikely we’ll run into many people.”

~~~

In the end, they stride through the castle gates after the sun sets.  
Aedion strolls through the hallways with his signature grin. Rumours are nothing Aedion doesn’t know, hearing the whispers that trail after them as they walk through the halls. He’s had many words whispered in his presence, encompassing him in a whirlwind of secrets and insults.  
These are whispers of awe.  
And he relishes in them.  
Gavriel keeps a step behind his son, watching his aura swell to fill the space, overwhelming in its intensity. It’s the aura of a warrior, of the Wolf of the North, that encompasses everyone that Aedion passes. His smirk, his strong stance, is one of a challenge and a victory.

The last time he was in this country, the last time he walked across these beautiful carpets and soaked in the warm, humid air, he was a bastard child that they were more then ready to expose of. Someone who they were fully prepared to send overseas, to rid themselves of. He was the bastard child of the woman who was like a sister to their king and his sister, Evalin. Their cousin who was so close to the two that they may as well have been three siblings instead of a brother, sister and cousin.  
But now he’s back.

A warrior in his own right, a self-made general, the youngest general in Erilea’s history to be appointed at nine-teen years old, a blood-sworn member of the court of one of the most renown queens in the world. A male that’s fought against demons besides kings, queens, princes and princesses.  
He is so much more then what they thought he was.  
He made himself something, and now he’s ready to let all those bastards know it.  
The smirk widens as Galan strides towards them, the crown heir of the country spreading his arms in welcome.

“Aedion, Gavriel,” Galan smiles at the two of them, clasping arms with Aedion. “It’s good to see you two again.”

“And you,” Aedion grins, gripping his arm and bumping shoulders in return.

They became close, thanks to the battle. Two young demi-fae princes, kin by blood, working side by side to amass their forces and push back the foe. Going through something such as war can bind two people, especially those as young and bound by past like Aedion and Galan.  
Not only that, but during his stay in Terrasen the young price, Galan, apologised for the treatment of Aedion’s mother.  
He’s so far the only member of the Ashryver family to do so.

“You missed dinner, but I’m sure we could scrounge up something from the kitchens for you,” Galan offers, casually smiling at the two of them, Aedion smirking back and Gavriel smiling easily.

“That would be appreciated,” Gavriel dips his head.

They head down the hallway, turning the corner. And right there is the king, his hands clasped behind his back as he admires a painting on the wall, tanned skin lined and black hair beginning to gray, an older image of Galan.  
King Glaston. Evalin’s brother, and cousin to Aedion’s mother. Or more like a brother, depending on who you ask.  
All three of them stop, looking at the king. King Glaston turns to them, freezing as his gaze settles on Aedion.

“Aedion,” he murmurs, much like his son once did, with wonder in his voice as if he is a creature that has been magically summoned.

Aedion sneaks a glance at the painting. Three young figures smile back. King Glaston in the centre, his sister Evalin to the left, and Aedion’s mother, their cousin, on the right.

The young king stares straight at the painter, a spitting image of his son with his raven black hair and Ashryver eyes, back straight and shoulders pushed back. Clad in black and blue attire he symbolises Wendlyn, yet a small smile tugs at his mouth. It’s obvious from the spark in his eyes and that small tug of the lips that his attention isn’t on the painter whom he looks at, but rather on the females at either side of him. Such a regal position, yet the youth and joy in his face shines through.

Evalin herself sits on a chair to her brother’s left. Her bland hair is a spark of colour, pulled back from her face by two little braids then falling in a neat waterfall. Her hands are folded over her lap, her shoulders and back also straight, yet a wider smile adorns her features as she leans towards Glaston and Aedion’s mother. It’s obvious that like her brother her attention is diverted, caught in the moment occurring with two of the people she is closest with. The stubbornness lining her muscles, her frame, are startlingly similar to the same ferocious features that create Aelin. It’s so easy to forget how similar the two are, in both spirit and physical appearances.

Aedion’s eyes drift to the right, and land on his mother. She leans back against a piano, looking to the painter yet her body is leaning forward slightly, a clear sign that she was speaking to Glaston and Evalin. Her blond hair, much like in the sketch that Gavriel gave to Aedion, is a short golden mane that brushes her shoulders. Her Ashryver eyes spark with interest her mouth tugged up into a smile. Her clothes are still formal, wearing a black and blue dress that laces at the front, yet the skirt is shorter and her arms are bare. It’s obvious a garment that allows for free movements, her tanned skin shining golden.  
But it’s the lines she drawn in that causes her to stand out. Yes, the artist has painted her the same way he painted the others, yet just as she was in the sketch her personality, her very self, seems to be defined in broad, strong strokes. The lines that define her and strong, stubborn, shown in the straightness of her broad shoulders, of the way she seems fully at peace and confident where she’s positioned. Not standing to attention or sitting formally, but rather in her own relaxed position that her family no doubt attempted to remove her from.

But they couldn’t. Because, just like her son, she is drawn and defined by steel lines that never break. It becomes clear who Aedion gained his unbreakable will from. This female, this strong, formidable female, who stood against her entire royal family and every bit of shame they threw at her. Who fought her battle to protect her son until her last breath.  
There’s so much of Aedion in her that it shocks him, to look at his mother and see the same message painted across her skin that he wears like a brand. 'You can’t break or own me. I belong to no one but myself.'

“You look,” King Glaston clears his throat, snapping Aedion to attention, “very much like your mother.”

A near mirror, to what Gavriel had once said to him. It’s become so clear now, however, that they both mean it on multiple levels.  
Gavriel stays a step behind Aedion, yet monitors him. Glaston and Galan may not be able to hear, but it’s clear to his fae hearing that his son’s heart is beating just a little faster then normal.

“King Glaston,” Aedion lowers his head, bending at the waist slightly.

Galan and Gavriel both copy his movements, the king watching. It’s strange, to look at what Galan may age to be. He’s clearly the spitting image of his father, yet the king himself has lines beginning to groove his deeply-tanned skin, his hair greying at the edges.

He holds his hands out in front of him, taking a hesitant step towards Aedion. The Wolf of the North swallows, throat bobbing, as he takes in the male that is the brother to the woman that raised him, the uncle to the female who is basically Aedion’s sister, the man that was like a brother to Aedion’s mother.  
Gavriel resists the urge to step forward at the way Aedion’s heartbeat picks up once again as the man who should have been like an uncle to him instead of a hated stranger takes another step forward.

King Glaston’s hands hover in the air, as if uncertain to land on Aedion’s shoulders or to cup his face, his expression pained with longing and grief. Aedion can’t help but wonder if it’s his mother who the king is seeing. Glaston still seems uncertain as to what to do, teetering between moving forward and back.  
Aedion makes the decision for him, stepping back, hands flexing at his sides.

Dropping his hands Glaston takes his own step back, blinking. “How long have you been in the city? Are you staying with us?”

It becomes clear to Aedion all of the sudden that the king had no idea of their arrival or visit. “We’re just staying the night.”

Is it rude to drop in for only a few hours? Galan had no qualms about it, but then again to come late in the night with plans to leave early…

“Right,” King Glaston nods, still in a daze. “Are you here with news from your cousin?”

Gavriel watches closely as Aedion’s hands curl into fists at his side.

“No,” Aedion keeps his voice bland. “We’re visiting my mothers grave seeing as how I wasn’t permitted to be there for her ceremony.”

Not when they rushed him out of the country, barely giving an explanation before shoving him onto a boat to take him to the only family members that cared about what happened to him.

“Right,” King Glaston looks away, similar to his son. “I assume rooms have been set aside for you?”

“They wished to just stay the night, so two simple rooms have been allocated,” Galan steps in.

As per Gavriel and Aedion’s request. There’s no point in having rooms set up for them when their plan was to only stay for a few hours to gain some sleep before setting off to the small town on the coast, not too far away, where Aedion’s mother raised him. Where, for the first five years of his life, he lived in a house he can’t remember with her, yet can recall that it was on the beach, a little ways seperate from the town.  
They’ll find it. They’ll look.

“Nonsense,” King Glaston waves a hand, his kingly presence returning. “Take them to the guest rooms; they should be comfortable for the night.”

Aedion appraises the king who was known for fighting besides his men, just as Galan now does. Surely the man knows what it is like to sleep in trenches, sometimes without a tent, curling under your clothes as your only means of protection against the harsh elements. Perhaps by giving them rooms, accommodation with comfortable suitings, it’s the kings way of trying to find some compensation towards Aedion. If only he could mention to the king that soft surfaces, after years on the hard ground and bed rolls, are too soft and cause him to feel as though he is being swallowed. Of course he puts up with the lavish bed back at home for Lysandra’s sake (though it is much easier to sleep and enjoy it with her next to him. Not that he will admit that).

“I would also,” the king clears is throat, drawing attention once again, “like for you to join me for breakfast in the morning. I’d like to know what you’ve been doing.”

Aedion blinks slowly. “Well,” he drawls, “there was the war.”

The king’s wince is almost visible, same as Gavriel’s, even if Galan simply turns away with a hand over his mouth and mirth in his eyes.

“Yes,” the king looks away, still holding back a wince. “I look forward to talking in the morning.”

With that the king turns, and walks away. After a moments pause the three of them continue walking, Gavriel lagging two steps behind Galan and Aedion. Silence stretches between them as they slowly walks up a staircase, everyone processing their meeting with the king.

“You didn’t tell your father we were coming?” Aedion finally breaks the silence.

Galan throws his hands up. “You were only staying for a few hours so I didn’t think you’d run into him!”

“Like hell we wouldn’t!”

Gavriel casually admires the paintings as they walk.

“You could have told me your reason for coming!” Galan hisses, leaning towards him. “I thought you were here for a different reason!”

“It was a private reason!” Aedion growls back. “I wasn’t exactly going to go screaming it from the rooftops! And what did you think we were here for?”

“I don’t know! Murder?”

Aedion jerks, turning his head to stare at his cousin, aghast. “Why would you let us come if you thought we were going to commit murder? And why murder!”

“It was a guess!” Galan throws his hands in the air, scowling. “Look at your personal histories! And it was only a slight hunch!”

Gavriel sighs, smiling and reminiscing as he stares out the windows to briefly catch the sunset. The view over the city is phenomenal, the buildings and ocean reflecting the golden hues.

“You shouldn’t have invited us even if it was just a hunch!” Aedion hisses.

“Would that have stopped you from coming?” Galan snaps, stopping between two doors opposite each other. “Well here are your rooms! See you at breakfast!”

“Like hell I’m going to that!” Aedion hollers after his retreating figure.

“You can’t say no to royalty!”

“I say no to Aelin all the damn time and I’ll say it to you as well!”

Gavriel knows that’s a lie. At best Aedion just adds fuel to the mischievous fire. And then laughs at the havoc that commences.  
Almost like a demon.

“Well,” Aedion growls, “goodnight.”

Gavriel realises as his son opens his door that Aedion’s heart is still beating faster than normal, his knuckles white as he grips the doorknob. He follows his son through the door.  
The room is lavish, most likely a room used for when fellow royalty visits. It’s of a more western design then the rooms at Terrasen, the walls a gentle golden colour that catch the sun thanks to the giant windows lining one wall. A bed sits to the side, other pieces of furniture peppering the large space. A door stands opposite the bed, across the room, most likely leading to the bathroom. A long, cushioned window seat spreads beneath the large windows. Aedion stops in the middle of the room, spends a second to take it in, then places his head in his hands.  
Staring at his son, head in hands and shoulders slumped in such a beautiful space fin for a royal, Gavriel is struck with the sudden comparison of staring at a wild, free creature trapped in a stunning cage.

Beautiful, but still imprisonment. Perhaps that’s what his son’s title as a royal, as a disowned member of the Ashryver bloodline, has always been.  
Gavriel crosses the room, placing a hand on Aedion’s shoulder to comfort him. His son turns, and at his bewildered expression Gavriel pulls his son into his arms, holding him firmly.

It will take time. Time, to quell the urge to hunt down every fucking Ashryver that dared look at his son in distain.  
For now Gavriel and only comfort his son when he tired of standing tall. And act that gives him great honour.  
It’s worth it every time.

~~~

Sunshine is what wakes Aedion, his eyes peeling open as he turns his head to stare out the window, the ocean shimmering past the city.  
The window seat. A much better option to sleep on besides the bed, where he could easily stare out at the night time city or simply look up at the stars. Better then feeling trapped under a roof while being swallowed whole by soft blankets that grate against his coarse skin, reminding him of a time where a bed was as much of an imprisonment as a cage. The look up at the sky gives a sense of freedom in this palace that itches at the corners of his memories, thank the gods.  
No, fuck the gods after the hell those monsters put them through.

Sighing, Aedion slowly rolls off the seat to stand, stretching his arms easily above his head. He strolls over to the bathroom, wiping sleep from his eyes as he opens the door.  
And is met by a large, extravagant bathroom. The shelves are carved into the walls instead of jutting our, a large mirror and bench against one wall. The bath sunken into the round resembles a small pool more then anything, the water already steaming.  
He shuts the door and turns around.

Only to step outside of the room to be met by Gavriel, who shakes the last few drops of water form his hair, cleaning dressed and presented.  
Aedion blinks at his father, and Gavriel blinks back, as immaculate as ever.

“Gods damn it,” Aedion growls, and storms back into his room.

~~~

“You didn’t need to bathe just because I did,” Gavriel grins, watching his son button up his shirt, leaving two undone.

“Yes,” Aedion glowers, “I did. Let’s get this over with.”

“Aedion, it’s breakfast.”

“Don’t use food to try to make this better.”

~~~

The clock ticks.  
Loud and clear, the hands move with the passage of time. The large dining room is empty, besides the four males that sit at the table. King Glaston sits at the head, with Galan to his side. the chair opposite Galan is empty, his mother preoccupied. Aedion sits next to the empty chair, Gavriel next to him. A wonderful spread of food has been laid out. Hot, flat morning cakes presented, bowls of fruit, fresh water with ice in large pitchers. Assortments of honey and jams sit, sprawled between the dishes and males.  
Aedion, having almost no appetite, simply moves the food around on the plate, staring at the little arrangements he makes. Galan for the most part tries his best, picking at pieces of food, eating as he stares out the window. King Glaston himself shows discomfort, steadily eating the food, yet more robotically, as though going by muscle memory more then anything. Gavriel as always sits upright and proper, yet like his son focused on his plate as he uses a knife and fork to cut up his food, golden eyes absent from the present.

“So, Aedion.”

Galan inhales sharply, immediately bending over to hack up a grape. Aedion slips forward, his fork screeching on the plate as his head snaps up to stare wide-eyed at the king. Even Gavriel straightens, slapping a hand on the table while blinking, looking around the room before relaxing again.  
King Glaston winces at the visible shock his words caused in the midst of the silence.

“I- yes?” Aedion clears his throat, placing the fork down flat and sitting straighter.

“Well,” the king hesitated, clearly searching for words. “How is Aelin?”

“She’s well,” Aedion’s eyes dart away, and Gavriel winces at the rise in his sons heartbeat.

“Good,” King Glaston nods, eyes also sliding away. “We were worried about her state. The war must have been hard on her.”

Gavriel doesn’t miss the way Aedion’s hand curls by his side.

“The war was hard on all of us,” Aedion smoothly answers, voice in control.

The voice of the liar, trickster, deceiver. The voice used to hide all emotions, to conceal hidden plans.  
A voice that was once used for a different king.

“I’m sure it was,” the king softly amends, looking at the table.

No, not at the table. At the hand Aedion still has spread over his fork, his fingers appearing fine despite the fact that they are crooked in some places. From a distance, they look fine. Up close, they are obviously healed from breaks.

Noticing the stare, Aedion clenches and unclenches his fist, smirking down at the digits. “Each one was broken in two places.”

Almost everyone winces.

“That must have been painful,” the king clears his throat.

It’s too good of an opening to pass out on. “It was, but it isn’t the worst thing I’ve had done to me.”

Gavriel has to hold back from quickly sucking a breath deep down his throat, his heart jolting at the words. It will be a while before the remembrance of how his son suffered as a child will stop stuttering his heart. If it will ever stop.

“Right,” King Glaston swallows thickly. “I am sorry, Aedion, that you had to suffer through that.”

“So am I,” Aedion’s look turn unimpressed. “Especially since no aid was sent, and none of our lovely relatives thought to ask for me.”

Both Galan and the king tense, Galan’s eyes looking at Aedion with desperation, the king looking away.  
Gavriel’s spoken to Aedion of this. He doesn’t blame his cousin; not when Galan was as young as he was when the war broke out. Not when his cousin was also a child when Aedion was sent away. There was little he could have done, and when he was old enough to send aid he did.  
But the king, on the other hand.  
The king could have used his power to do something. Anything. Any of Aedion’s older relatives could have vouched for him to be removed from the war.  
It’s difficult for Gavriel to swallow down his own anger. Especially when he himself was absent, so far away on an opposite corner of the world that he had never even heard his son’s name.

“Thank you for the meal,” Aedion says after a few more minutes of silence, pushing his chair back.

“Aedion, wait,” the king also stands, Galan and Gavriel sharing concerned looks from where they are seated. “We should talk.”

Aedion rests his eyes upon the king, and waits.

“Alone,” King Glaston mutters.

Everyone can nearly see the bristles that rise on Aedion, yet he simply grins, that dangerous whirlwind aura of his swirling through the room. “Alright. That should be fun.”

King Glaston stands and leads the way, Aedion lazily following. The door clicks shut behind them.

“I really hope this doesn’t end in murder,” Galan mourns lowly, placing his head in his hands.

“If it helps, that wasn’t our original intention,” Gavriel shrugs helplessly. “Neither was this breakfast.”

“That doesn’t help. And you don’t need to try to use food to make this better.”

Gavriel sits back in his seat. Ashryver’s. The similarities can be startling.

~~~

“I really was surprised to see you here,” King Glaston leans against a desk, allowing Aedion to stand by the closed door of the office. “Especially with Gavriel. I see that the rumours are true.”

“Right,” Aedion crosses his arms, keeping his composure relaxed. “Did you have any idea that he was my father?”

King Glaston responds after a minute. “No. If I had, I would have…”

“What?” Aedion snorts. “Appraised my mother instead of kicking her out?”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” King Glaston very nearly growls, leaning forward. “I wasn’t happy with your mothers predicament, but it’s also something she had chosen for herself. She could have stayed.”

“And let me be sold to Meave?” Aedion levels a look, voice low. “And faced ridicule all throughout her pregnancy? Be shamed by her own family at every which turn?”

“It was never that simple!” King Glaston’s voice nearly takes on a begging tone. “What was everyone supposed to think when a princess of Wendlyn announces that she’s pregnant and won’t give a damn clue as to who the father was?”

“She told Evalin!”

“Only when she had to!” King Glaston snaps, standing straight. “She never told me!”

Aedion falls quiet, appraising the king. “Were you as close to her as Evalin was?”

“She was like a sister to me.”

“I see,” Aedion’s voice takes on a quiet, hushed tone. “But Evalin was your sister, and you never did a damn thing to help her country in a time of war. To help me.”

“Aedion, please,” Glaston’s voice weakens as he rubs at his eyes. “The politics were difficult. Terrasen had fallen, we believed Aelin to be dead, and by the time we were informed about you Adarlan had already started introducing you into their camps. What were supposed to do with a prince raised in a foreign county and captured by an enemy land?”

“Do you even understand,” a growl rises in Aedion’s voice, “how difficult it is to situate yourself in a country you are not native to? How many times I had to listen to the lords of both Terrasen and Adarlan sneer in my face that I was a foreigner unworthy of my titles because of it? And now you’re saying, what, that I will never have a cemented place in the country I am native to? That I am to be stuck, never belonging properly to any country thanks to my childhood that was torn by forces out of my control?”

“I’m sorry, Aedion,” King Glaston takes a remorseful approach, sagging against the desk. “It’s unfortunate, I know.”

“So many things in my life could have been avoided,” Aedion doesn’t bother keeping the tremble from his voice, unsure if it is from rage or sorrow, “if it wasn’t for the bastards that plagued me. That gripped my fate in their hands and chose my future without giving me a say. Maybe if you had all loved her, supported her and trusted her, had made her feel that you would have protected us from Meave, then none of it would have happened.”

Aedion stalks a few steps closer, staring the king in the eyes. “But it’s a damn good think it did, because Terrasen would have been fucked if it wasn’t for me, and I wouldn’t have had the chance to prove every single damn bastard wrong. To smash glass palaces from the inside, to rally armies and legions that had been slain in the snow, to stand while wrapped in chains. So you all just remember who’s son I am when they speak of me in legends. And I don’t just mean Gavriel’s.”

With that he turns, soundly closing the door behind him, leaving Glaston with his head in his hands.

~~~

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Galan asks, blowing out a breath. “Even just in the city-“

“It was good to see you again,” Aedion smiles, clasping hands with his cousin, but we do need to go.”

“I understand,” Galan nods, the sun shining down from where they stand at the edge of the city.”

The farewells are sparse, Aedion and Gavriel setting off. The small town is just a little further down the coast. Gavriel keeps a close eye on Aedion for the most part. What kind of struggle must it have been to so bluntly speak with an unfamiliar family member? The very fact that Aedion has yet to utter a word of it is cause for concern. Where is the rage? The yelling? This silence doesn’t sit well. Not as they stroll down the road, Aedion throwing off his jacket to leave himself simply in his shirt, the first real thing he’s done since they’ve started.  
Would it be a good idea to push? Or should he simply wait for Aedion to release information on the ordeal himself? Most likely the later, considering past experiences.  
But things such as this can be difficult.  
So damn difficult.  
So Gavriel leaves it.

~~~

It takes another hour before Aedion freely talks once again, joy seeping into his tone as he takes in the humid air and admired the flora and fauna Gavriel points out. As he strolls along the sea side, glad for the costal trek they’ve chosen, even going as far as to take his shoes off to walk through the water.  
So much warmer compared to the waters of Terrasen, which can kill in an instant. Even if the Wendlyn locals keep insisting that it’s currently much more ‘cold’ then usual.

“How do you stand the humidity?” Audio nearly growls at one point, wiping sweat rom his brow.

“You get used to it,” Gavriel chuckles dryly. “At least you know now how different the temperature here is from Terrasen.”

“No wonder you old bastards get cold all the time,” Aedion seethes, popping free two more buttons of his shirt, resisting the urge to shield his eyes from the sun. “Gods, it’s late in the afternoon. How is the sun still this strong?”

“This is the most I’ve ever heard you complain about something,” Gavriel tries to fight back his smile, failing desperately.

“Because I hate this sun,” Aedion growls, eyes narrowed.

“Hate is such a strong word,” Gavriel shakes his head, feigning disappointment.

“It’s a giant flaming orb in the sky that burns my skin and eyes,” Aedion glares. “I’m allowed to say I hate it.”

“Fair enough,” Gavriel chuckles, then quietens. “We’ll reach the town in a few hours. Are you sure you would like to find the house right away? We could find a place to stay for the night and wait until the morning.”

Aedion looks down. “I want to see her as soon as possible.”

“I understand,” Gavriel nods.

“Did you ever visit her?” Aedion’s voice reaches a quiet point, turning husky as he looks away.

Gavriel tries to rein in the guilt rearing in his chest. “I never thought I had a right to. Not after she asked me to leave.”

“Right,” Aedion swallows, staring at the town that’s slowly coming into view. “I don’t...”

Gavriel stops, placing his hand on Aedion’s shoulder to urge him to do the same. “Aedion?”

“I don’t remember this place,” Aedion’s voice grated harshly, looking out at the water.

Something in Gavriel’s chest cleaves at the way guilt laces his son’s words, as if his forgetting is the gravest of crimes. As if he should be punished for not remembering a place he hasn’t visited in nineteen years, that he was ripped away from against his will.  
How much did his son cry, alone on that boat as a small child heading to Terrasen?

“Maybe you’ll remember some things once you return,” Gavriel resists wrapping his arm around Aedion’s shoulder, easily identifying the strain lining his body.

“Maybe,” Aedion stares along the shore. “It’s somewhere along here. It was so close to the city, to them, but they still never realised.”

“Sometimes it’s not the physical distance,” Gavriel’s voice drops, his baritone soft.

“Right,” Aedion keeps his gaze on the horizon. “Right.”

~~~

It’s a small square house, only one level, sitting right where the grass begins to grow in the sand. Its white walls are rimmed by the brown wood, a window next to the door looking out at the beach that’s only a few meters away, the waves serenading the area.  
Aedion and Gavriel stand just a meter away from the small house, looking at it with trepidation and awe as the sun begins to set. Gavriel looks over to his son, and is immediately startled by the clear terror written across Aedion’s face, his son’s complexion pale as he stares at the house.

“Aedion-“

“This is where she died. She’s buried in the garden at the back. I- I used to help pick the tomatoes we grew.”

Old memories, resurfacing like the tide washing over the sand. Gavriel watches as Aedion walks towards the house, steps robotic, and ducks inside. Sticking close to his son, Gavriel takes in the bare minimum of furniture in the room. Two dusty, deteriorating bed rolls pressed together, a paper divider separating it from the side of the room that contains a sink and toilet. A door leads out to the back garden.

Such a small space, but all that was needed for a mother and her small child hiding from a dark queen.

A quiet, peaceful place. Aedion stares at the bedroll, and ducks down, pushing the frayed pillow to the side. Underneath it a black cord sits, an obsidian stone with white dots attached to it. A snowflake obsidian, a necklace he suddenly vividly remembers sitting on his mother’s chest. Swallowing, Aedion fiddles with the small clasp, reaching behind his neck to adorn the simple piece of jewellery. The stone sits just below the hollow of his throat, able to be hidden by his shirt or jacket if needed.

Aedion leaves it viewable.

Gavriel doesn’t say a word, watching as his son aimlessly stands in the centre of the room, staring at everything with a glazed look. Gavriel notices that one of his hands is wrapped around the snowflake obsidian, dwarfing the small, smooth stone.

So much like the stones that were used to enslave thousands. Yet so different, with it’s white dots breaking apart the darkness. Gavriel can’t help but wonder if it’s the universes idea of a cruel joke, guiding his son towards the stone his mother owned. A stone that looks so much like a Valg stone, only to be broken by pin pricks of light. Much like his mother, who was chased by darkness yet made her own illumination.

“Aedion,” Gavriel says his son’s name, still standing in the doorway.

He doesn’t say it to catch his son’s attention. No, he says it to feel the name on his tongue, to clearly pronounce each letter. To exercise the beautiful gift that the woman who once lived in this house gave him.  
He knows why she didn’t tell him. He knows that she may not have even known when she sent him away. He knows that everything she did in her short life was to keep their son alive, to give him a chance to bring new actions into this world. To affect it in the only way he can, to become a new variable created solely by them.  
And Aedion has done more and above. What would the Ashryver family had done if they knew that Gavriel’s son would be one to help defeat Valg kings and princes? To help end decade long wars?

“The garden,” Aedion jerks around to look at the back door, ambling through it.

Gavriel trails him without a second thought. There’s nothing else in the small space anyway.

It’s so heartbreakingly empty.

But there are signs the garden was once well cared for. Some spikes that were once driven into the ground still stand, crumbling under the weight of growing vines. Weeds spread along the ground, and it’s nearly impossible to tell where the patches of small crops once were if not for the falling apart pieces of wood. Nineteen years has let the garden overgrow in an explosion of green, engulfing the small garden patches into an overall sea of leaves.

“She,” Aedion laughs through his tears, choking for a moment, “I think she would have liked this. Would have liked the fact that it all kept growing.”

Gavriel nods, taking in the flourishing flora. “I think she would have too.”

“She’s up here,” Aedion’s voice is quiet in the dying sunlight.

Gavriel follows his son up the small sand dune, firm thanks to the grass and plants splitting through the groans of sand. It leads into the first behind the house, the trees thinned out and thickening the deeper they delve. Aedion stops, nearly causing Gavriel to walk into him, at the opening of a clearing.

They can so clearly hear the ocean behind them, and a stream off in the distance. With the sun finally setting the fireflies come out, dabbling across the sky in whizzing bursts. The headstone stands in the centre of the clearing, a few weeds and flowers growing around it thanks to being neglected.

Yet it is clean, no doubt checked on from the time to time. No doubt by Aedion’s other Ashryver relatives, who knew where she was.

Aedion doesn’t move, staring at the headstone, shoulders trembling with his tears as he jerks with every held back sob.

“It was all my fault,” Aedion whispers, staring at the grass. “If she never had me she could have gone to the healers. She wouldn’t have become so sick so fast.”

“Aedion,” Gavriel wraps an arm around his shoulder. “Aedion, it reads ‘loving mother.’ Even if she never had you she would have fallen ill, and the healers may have been able to do nothing. But she wouldn’t have that title if you never happened.”

He feels his son’s body shudder as he reads the words elegantly engraved in his mother’s stone, just below her name. They walk towards it, Aedion kneeling to speak.

He speaks of his life. Of the horrors and miracles, of the lovers and the haters, of all the times he has been marked a sinner and a saint. The words spill free from his lips as he buries his fingers into the grass, tugging gently as the words tumble forward as if to keep himself grounded. Gavriel kneels next to his son, listening to every word that Aedion unleashes.

They share their story together when they talk of their first meeting, both Aedion and Gavriel laughing slightly when the Lion admits to how utterly terrified he was. The last battle is hard to speak of, Aedion unable to say how Gavriel had nearly died, the words choking in his throat. So Gavriel does it for him.

They speak of their friends and allies, of Aelin, of Lysandra and Rowan and Evangeline and Kyllian and everyone else. So many years poured out towards the woman who have always been watching from the stars.

Gavriel takes Aedion back inside after their words have run out. He knows that they should find an inn, that they should walk into the town he can hear just a little further down the beach, but his son is utterly exhausted. Not physically, no, the journey was nothing to them. But speaking until the stars were spread above their head like a blanket, the sun far away from their side of the earth.  
Aedion doesn’t sleep near the bedrolls, looking near sick at the idea of resting in the place he once did as a child. Instead he curls up against the wall near the door to the gardens, his look making it clear he’d rather be sleeping under the sky, yet he relents.

“I think I used to have a toy lion,” Aedion mentions, voice thick with sleep, his head resting on his folded up jacket.

“Really?” Gavriel looks from where he leans against the wall, one leg propped up with his arm resting upon it.

“Yes,” Aedion’s eyes drift closed. “She gave it to me. Maybe as some kind of joke.”

“I don’t think it was a joke,” Gavriel says softly.

When receiving no reply he finally realises that his son is asleep. Standing, Gavriel silently exits to the garden, leaving the door open slightly to allow the fresh night air to seep in easier. The moon glows down as he walks back to the grave, kneeling in front of the woman he loved with his head bowed. Shame and love quarrel inside of him as he finally does what he has never been allowed to do before.

He thanks her. He thanks her for gifting him with something all fae struggle to have. The odds of Aedion being born of two people with fae blood, who spent so little time together in that sense, is miraculous. He thanks her for protecting him, for giving them time.

It will never be enough, not until he can sweep her into his arms and dance across the stars with her.

But for now it will have to do.

He’ll enjoy the gift he has been given, will enjoy every second of it, before moving on.

And he intends to make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm so sorry this took so long, but as some people know I ended up falling really ill for a few weeks. To make up for the late posting the next chapter will be a short story about Aedion and Kyllian's relationship and what happened there! I hope you guys all enjoy, thanks for continuing to support this fic!


	9. Past, Present, Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An insight to Kyllian and Aedion's past... with a group of protective fae males keeping an eye on their friends son's past lover, who they've yet to properly meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry this took so long, I was supposed to post it last night but celebrations got in the way. I hope you all really enjoy and had a great Christmas and New Years!

11.

“How did you two meet?”

Aedion snaps his head up the same time Kyllian does, both of them staring at Lysandra. The shifter simply raises a brow at them, head in hand, from across the table. Gavriel himself looks at the expectantly from where he sits next to her. Aedion and Kyllian are still hunched close together, Kyllian leaning over a Laical book with Aedion.

“Pardon?” Kyllian asks, deep voice rolling smoothly.

Lysandra flicks her eyebrows up again, smiling sweetly. “Your relationship. Your meeting. How did it all go? Who approached who? Who caved in first?”

Aedion frowns. “What makes you think one of us caved i-“

“Aedion.”

He whirls around to glare at Kyllian, a growl erupting. The dark-haired man simply grins.

“Interesting,” Lysandra’s eyes spark, and Gavriel simply sighs, debating how long he wishes to stay for the conversation. “How did you meet?”

“At the theatre,” Aedion sips his drink.

Gavriel frowns and Lysandra blinks.

“I- Really?” Gavriel asks. “I mean I know you have a dramatic flair, and I could actually see you doing something in that genre-“

“No!” Aedion scowls over Kyllian’s snickers. “Gods, the war camps! We met in the war camps where we were trained together! Why would you think I had anything to do with theatre?”

Fenrys, walking past their table, stops, overhearing the last fo his sentence. “Theatre? I was wondering when you’d tell us about that. Are you going on stage anytime soon?”

Kyllian positively cackles, practically falling out of his seat and needing to grab onto Aedion’s arm to keep upright. Other’s eating dinner send them glances, yet continue eating, more than used to the queen’s court by now.

“Why the hell would you think I have anything to do with the theatre?” Aedion growls at Fenrys, hands braced on the table.  
“Well you and Aelin talk about going all the time and you’re both really dramatic so I just thought-“

“That’s enough for one night,” Aedion cuts him off, standing.

“No! No!” Kyllian grabs Aedion’s shirt, using it keep himself up as he heaves with laughter. “They’re sorry! I’m sorry! Besides, how we met is actually interesting!”

“Oh, is it?” Rowan slides into the seat next to Gavriel, Vaughan joining him.

“Aren’t you supposed to sit with your queen?” Aedion narrows his eyes.

“I’m right here,” Aelin all but purrs, sliding into the seat next to Lysandra.

Aedion blinks at everyone, realising that the entire court has some how managed to slide their way down the table to surround Kyllian and him. “How long have you all been waiting to corner us?”

“Since Kyllian first arrived and you all but pushed an offical out of his chair so Kyllian could sit next to you.”

“That’s not surprising,” Kyllian flashes Aedion a grin. “You’ve always been protective over your greatest friends.”

“What happened?” Lysandra prompts again. “You’re both still obviously close to each other.”

“Nothing to worry about there,” Kyllian winks at her. “I was pushing him to treat you like the queen you are all throughout your stay in the camps when I first met you.”

“Darling, you know I love you, no need to try to convince me.”

“I want to leave,” Aedion mutters under his breath, poking at the food on his plate. “Ten years of fighting and now this. It’ll never end, will it?”

“No, it won’t,” Vaughan says miserably. “I’ve literally gone form one court to another and still have these bastards with me.”

Fenrys, Rowan and Gavriel all give their voices of concern and surprise.

“Lorcan isn’t here,” Rowan points out, crossing his arms.

“He visits with Elide,” Vaughan grumbles into his drink, looking away. “We see him and each other more now then we ever did before.”

“Did you all ever have a favourite?” Aedion grins.

Gavriel says ‘no’ at the same time the other cadre members say ‘Gavriel.’ The Lion blinks at them all in surprise.

“What did you expect?” Fenrys snorts. “You’re the only one even Lorcan can stand. But who’s you’re favourite?”

The wolf grins at that, leaning in close. Even though they won’t admit it the rest of the cadre members perk in interest, Aedion unabashedly smirking at the way the attention has now shifted to his father.

“Aedion,” Gavriel answers flatly, everyone crying in outrage, Aedion choking, Kyllian, Lysandra and Aelin cackling.

“But he’s not a-“

“Aedion,” Gavriel repeats again stubbornly, sipping his drink and looking away.

“See what you’ve done, boyo?” Fenrys scowls at Aedion. “You’ve stolen all his attention. Greedy little thing, huh?”

Aedion levels him with a look. “You’ve taken my cousins attention. You deserve all the shit you get.”

Fenrys exclaims his hurt as everyone else laughs, the wolf collapsing against the queens side.

“This has been fun,” Aedion snorts, still smirking, as he stands. “I think I’ll go and-“

“How did you two meet?” Aelin smirks the same smirk as him. “Either you can stay and tell, or we get dear Kyllian to explain it all.”

And Kyllian, dear Kyllian who stood by Aedion’s side as not only his lover, but now as one of his best friend’s, gives Aedion the most shit eating grin that has ever been directed to him at a dinner table. Gritting his teeth, Aedion sends his friend a venomous glare as he sits back down. Kyllian simply smiles.

“So,” Kyllian grins at everyone, leaning forward on his crossed arms. “We first met when Aedion came to my war camp when he was a lieutenant. He was sixteen and I was eighteen-“

“You were a lieutenant at sixteen?” Gavriel beams at his son.

Aedion looks to the side, mumbling with his arms crossed, only slight colour entering his face. Smirking, Kyllian turns back to the story.

“So, we were all being introduced to this new lieutenant during training one morning. I had been in the army since I was fifteen, two years older then Aedion was at thirteen. When we first met I was eighteen at the time, and yet this sixteen year old was a lieutenant! I couldn’t believe that someone so young had been given a position higher then me! No one could! They couldn’t wait to give the bastard, mixed breed, Terrasarian upstart hell.”

“You never gave me hell!” Aedion chokes on a laugh. “Some others did but you-“

“Decided not to after you broke the arm of the first person that insulted you that morning,” Kyllian follow through, grinning proudly at his friend.

Everyone let’s out low mumbles and whistles, the cadre members gazing at Aedion with new appraisal. The young demi-fae can’t help but notice the looks, resisting the urge to smirk at the new-found appreciation he’s gained.

“Good on you, boyo,” Fenrys grins, after whistling low under his breath. “You should talk to Lorcan; he has plenty of stories of how he bloodied up people who would pick on the fact he was a bastard.”

“I know,” Aedion shows his teeth. “We’ve been swapping stories.”

Many rolls their eyes at that, and others chuckle.

“So you didn’t give Aedion hell?” Aelin raises a brow at Kyllian.

“No, and considering where I am now that was a good idea,” Kyllian chuckles, slinging an arm over the back of his chair and relaxing. “After that wonderful demonstration on how to break an arm we all no longer doubted the stories we had been told. Stories of a warrior with fae blood in his veins, young but vicious, slicing his way to the top even though under all circumstances he should have had his throat slit. We were all beginning to see why the king had allowed him to live; who wouldn’t want to try to turn a person who’s basically a weapon onto their side?”

“It was never easy,” Aedion’s voice drops.

“I know,” Kyllian’s eyes, if possible, darken even further as his mouth sets into a frown. “But you made it look easy. You commanded respect, not just through fear but by taking the time to learn everyone. To make them believe that you would step in front of a sword for them, even if that was the opposite of the truth. You made them believe you would guard them, instead of slitting their throats in their sleep. You were disrespected, yes, but that didn’t stop you from grabbing power and holding on with all you have.”

“You’re not making me sound the best,” Aedion grins.

“We all know you were a wonderful traitor,” Aelin rolls her eyes at her cousin. “So, what, you saw him then and were besotted?”

“No,” Kyllian laughs, albeit a little weakly at the narrowed, suspicious eyes Gavriel sends his way. “I wasn’t going to suddenly date a sixteen year old when I was eighteen.”

“You were one of the only ones with that particular moral set,” Aedion breathes, looking down into his drink.

Everyone can’t help but nearly wince at that, especially Gavriel, who sends a pleading look to his son. So many would have taken advantage of the sixteen year old lieutenant, particularly those in a higher position than him.

“Anyway,” Kyllian pulls the conversation back on topic, “one thing led to another, and I realised at one point that this invincible sixteen year old maybe wasn’t as aloof as he seemed. Eventually I convinced him to spend more time with me, and we became friends.”

“After we beat the shit out of each other,” Aedion deadpans, yet obviously struggling to keep back a smile.

“Obviously,” Kyllian snorts. “You were and are a bastard. I needed to have a shot at you before making my decision.”

“In the end we both bloodied each other up,” Aedion picks up the story, “and admiring each other’s skill we decided to be friends. I needed someone to help me keep others in line, and having someone among the troops to spread good word about me was an opportunity worth taking.”

“And that’s why Aedion decided to tolerate my presence,” Kyllian rolls his eyes, gesturing to the blond with his drink.

“Wonderful,” Lysandra says dryly. “But what about your romantic history?”

“What?” Aelin straightens, eyes wide as she turns to stare at the two males. “You two were together?” She turns to Aedion. “He’s the one that took you to the back of the bar and-“

Everyone can hear the resounding thud under the table, doing nothing to mask Aelin’s growl of pain, her leg shooting up from under the table. Rowan whips around to growl at the glaring Aedion, Gavriel beginning to stand, obviously ready to jump in front of his son if need be. Fenrys and Vaughan simply grin, more then ready to take bets.

Kyllian gapes at Aedion. “You told her about the night at the bar?”

A flush steadily creeps Aedion’s face, his eyes wide as he swallows. Gavriel himself winces, looking away from his son in discomfort, uncomfortable himself at hearing about ‘the bar,’ whatever the gods that it. Fenrys however releases a wolf whistle, earning a quick glare from Gavriel, who turns on his friend instead.

“Really, Fenrys?” Gavriel nearly growls.

“If the boyo gets action then the boyo gets action!” Fenrys cackles, tipping back in his chair.

“I just wanted a nice dinner,” Aedion growls. “How did it get to this?”

“Ooh. What happened at the bar?” Lysandra sits forward, eyes sparked greatly with interest.

“Lysandra!”

“I just want to know!”

“That’s it!” Aedion stands, pushing his chair back roughly. “I’m going to go train.”

“I’ll join you,” Kyllian stands, stretching, a sliver of stomach exposed.

“Have fun, boys,” the shifter winks.

“For fuck’s sake, Lysandra! We’re dating!”

~~~

“I like Lysandra,” Kyllian casually mentions as he follows Aedion to the training rings, hands behind his head. “She’s good for you and I like talking to her.”

“Do not tell her what happened at the bar.”

“She’s too interested,” Kyllian grins. “It’s better to keep it from her and let her imagination run wild. Besides, now she’ll just question you instead.”

Aedion releases a deep breath through his nose. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No,” Aedion agrees sullenly. “Thank you, for telling them we met like that.”

“It’s the truth,” Kyllian answers quietly, shrugging. “Nothing else needs to be said.”

They continue to walk in silence, minds cast back to a previous time.

~~~

Eight years ago

~~~

“Did you hear about the runt that’s coming?”

Ears fuelled thanks to fae blood perk, a devilish grin adorning a tanned face.

“Fuck, sixteen. Who the hell would make a sixteen year old a lieutenant?”

“Anyone that’s seen the boy fight would. They say he’s like a devil from hell.”

Three of them in the room… no, four. But the fourth one hasn’t spoken yet. Aedion stands in the doorway, looking at the four males on the other side of the open spaced oval training ring. They’re early, much like Aedion.

But they don’t have good hearing, like Aedion. They’re unaware of his presence from where they stands by the sword stand. It’s easy to identify the three that are talking and the one that stays silent. Just from the way he stands a little seperate from the group, his skin a few shades darker, his black hair wild and onyx eyes watching with scrutiny as he leans against a stand with his arms crossed. He’s clearly older then Aedion (not known from the muscles lining his arms and figure, shown by his tight black vest with nothing underneath, god’s no, Aedion hasn’t noticed that at all) but rather by his slightly taller height and the way the male carries himself as if he is watching children.

Then his eyes flick to meet Aedion’s.

And he grins.

Maybe not too old then, if he’s nearly going as far to poke his tongue out at a stranger.

Aedion blinks rapidly, thrown off balance. How long has it been since he’s seen any form of humour such as this?

…Right. Two to three years. It’s rare to find it in a war camp. Yet this young man seems to have no problem outrightly grinning at Aedion, not smirking, but grinning with what can only be clear joy. He must be able to clearly see he golden pin on Aedion’s vest that marks him as the lieutenant, yet he just gestures to the other boys and rolls his eyes, making a face. He must catch the way Aedion smiles for a split second, because his grin somehow grows even larger.

Aedion schools his expression, and steps into the training area, easily hearing the rest of the group approaching the area. The male quickly controls his features, but Aedion can clearly see the humour in his eyes.

But it’s not in a challenge. That much is obvious.

Fuck. What’s Aedion supposed to do? Most of the time it’s an insult, a degrading way to try to put him below his station, so he can simply teach the person a lesson.

But this isn’t against him. How is he supposed to react?

“Can’t believe they’d let a bastard runt be a lieutenant. To think they’re giving bastards positions now.”

“It is hard to believe,” Aedion allows his voice to smooth out in the air, strolling forward.

He sees recognition spark in the eyes of the three chatty males, yet simply smiles at the one whom made the comment. He can almost see the way they all shrink in fear before the bravado, the realisation that Aedion is younger than them, helps puff them up with false courage once again.

“Who are you?” The middle one scowls.

Aedion raises both brows, highly aware of the fact that the training area is now filled, all eyes on them as he taps his badge. “The new lieutenant. I believe you were talking about me? I’d be happy to answer any questions.”

Silence rings out.

“Right,” Aedion turns on his heel, walking to the centre of the gravel-covered oval, raising his voice. “First thing we’re doing-“

“…Fucking whore as a lieutenant…”

It happens as fast as a flash of lightning, Aedion one moment standing in the centre then in the next standing over the young man with is arm, twisted at a deranged angle, in hand. It’s become so easy, so easy to break and snap and twist bones while keeping his face smooth. To ignore the gritting sounds of flesh and bone moving in ways they’re not supposed to.

It shouldn’t be easy, but it is.

And damn it all to hell if that crack followed by surprised gasps isn’t at least a little bit satisfying.

Looking up, he meets everyone’s shocked gazes, their pale skin, literally smelling the fear on them. Yet out of the corner of his eye he sees that male. Grinning. As if he had just watched a friend win a victory.

What the hell?

~~~

The male is good, Aedion will admit that much.

So many of the young men in the ring are relying on brute strength and skill, which is what you want in soldiers.

But when you want a candidate for a higher position you need to look for someone who does more than jump into a fight with nothing but pure will. You need someone with strategy, someone who understands how to watch an opponent while watching themselves.

It begrudges him, but damn if the male doesn’t display some of those characteristics. Already Aedion is starting to take back the Bane, monitored yes, but slowly gathering aid under Adarlan’s nose. All he needs to do is become a general, which he’s already working towards, and he’ll guide the Bane under Terrasen without anyone knowing.

Someone as perspective as this ‘Kyllian’ could notice that.

Which isn’t a good thing.

“Interested?” The male in question throws a grin over his shoulder at Aedion, the training dummy cleanly disembowelled.

“What?” Aedion squints his eyes, tightening his crossed arms.

“You’ve been watching me for a solid ten minutes,” Kyllian flicks his brows up. “It looked a little like you wanted to kill me at one point. Either that or you’ve just been staring at my arms.”

Aedion is thankful that everyone else already left. “I’m sure you wish that.”

“Oh, I do.”

What the fuck.

Nearly swallowing, Aedion shakes his head. “Where are you from?”

“The Terrasen mountains. The Fangs, to be exact.”

Aedion can’t help the stuttering in his chest. The Fangs. Of course, it explains the darker complexion, eyes and hair, the muscles coursing under his skin thanks to the rough terrain, the earthy feel to the male that radiates solidarity...

How many times was Aedion taken up to the Fangs to train?

What has become of the people if one of their own natives is in an Adarlan training camp?

But... no, the male is talented. It makes sense that Adarlan would want people from the Fangs, people harshened by the elements, to become their soldiers instead of slaves. At least, some of them.

“So,” Kyllian drags Aedion to the present, “what do you say we go get a drink with the others? They’re already at the bar.”

“Of course they are,” Aedion mutters, earning a grin

“So?” Kyllian asks once again. “You coming?”

“I have work to do,” Aedion resists rolling his eyes at the way the male sags.

“Please?” Kyllian flicks his brows up. “Just this once to get to know the men?”

Aedion mauls it over, then sighs. “Why not?”

“Fantastic,” Kyllian grins. “You’ll love it.”

~~~

Surprisingly enough, Aedion does love it. Then again his blood has always boiled at the heavy heat, the loud music and the thumping feat agains the floor. At the rhythm that seems to flow through buildings, that signal that people are revelling in their victory. It almost makes him want to roar, the sound bubbling up in his throat that he swallows down with a glass of alcohol that’s surprisingly cold thanks to the freshly lain snow.

“I knew you’d love it,” Kyllian grins as soon as Aedion slams his glass back on the bar, seated at a stool with the man while the rest of the patrons dance to the band and mingle.

“Oh, did you?” Aedion leans in a little closer.

“Mhmm,” Kyllian follows his movement, eyes lidding slightly. “I’ve heard many, many rumours about you.”

A smirk spreads before Aedion can stop it. “Like what?”

“That you once ate a horse-“

“False, I just have a big appetite.”

“-that you once broke a tree in half with a stick-“

“It’s called an axe, and we needed firewood.”

“-that you’re sixteen-“

“Either that or I’m still fifteen, I don’t know the exact date of my birth, but yes, I turn sixteen this year.”

Kyllian pauses and blinks at Aedion. “I- you’re actually sixteen?”

“Yes?” Aedion raises a brow. “What are you?”

“Eighteen,” Kyllian mumbles, face darkening as he turn to look into his drink. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“You’re hot, but too young.”

Aedion nearly chokes on air. “I’m a lieutenant!”

“Also sixteen!” Kyllian says, face fallen. “I’m technically a legal adult. It wouldn’t feel right.”

“You do know that I’m higher commanding than you, right?” Aedion snorts, sipping his drink, watching Kyllian from the corner of his eye.

“Doesn’t matter how good you are at fighting,” Kyllian shakes his head. “It changes nothing with when you are or aren’t ready for fucking.”

Something in Aedion clangs at that, at the way the male suddenly no longer looks at him with lust.

That ready. He’s that ready to stop pursuing Aedion simply because of his age.

He may have even listened if Aedion simply said no.

“You’re strange,” Aedion simply decides on saying.

A wicked grin splits upon Kyllian’s face. “From you I’ll assume it’s a compliment.”

“Oh, it is,” Aedion may lean in a little closer. “You’re smart.”

“Not as much as you I bet.”

~~~

Present time

~~~

“What happened at the bar?”

“This is the fiftieth time, Lysandra!” Aedion growls by the dresser, throwing a glare and a growl to the shifter on the bed. “It was nothing! Besides, why are you so interested in our past relationship? You and I are together now!”

“Because I like Kyllian,” Lysandra huffs, collapsing back against the pillows. “He tells Aelin and I stories about what you were like in the Bane.”

“He talks to Aelin?”

Aedion can only begin to fathom the chaos that would cause.

“Yes,” Lysandra rolls her eyes. “And it’s fine. I’m just interested in how he managed to gain your trust and favour.”

Aedion focuses on unbuttoning his shirt. “It wasn’t easy.”

“I wouldn’t imagine it to be. He must have done something impressionable if it gained your attention.”

The wolf of the north gives no answer.

~~~

Seven years ago

~~~

The Bane is nearly stable. It’s been growing in numbers, rebels and rebel sympathisers that join Aedion under the torn Terrasen banner. Already he’s accumulating the masses, slowly but surely, timidly bringing in people who may be trusted so that their forces can grow in power.

But, even then, he still has to go to the gods forsaken training camps in regular visits as a part of his duties as lieutenant.

But it’s not all bad.

Not all bad to stand in the training ring, and have onyx eyes glance at him with smiles, to have someone who he may dare to call a friend who shares jokes with him at the bar while slamming glasses of ale beaded with water down onto the soaked wood. To mar the cracked oak with wet rings that appear as though they may permanently stain the textile material.

So it’s not all bad.

Until he hears the screams of a female, and the yelled curses of two males.

One being Kyllian.

The snow crumbles under the thunder fo his feet as he propels himself towards the one of the camp buildings where the sounds emit from. The door collapses under his shoulder, propelled off its hinges by his pure force, imploding out towards the scene in front of him. A young woman lays sprawled on the ground, sobbing, shirt half torn off as she grasps at her torn collar with a hand to desperately keep it on.  
Against a table a man leans against it, both hands gripping the fist that’s curled in his shirts collar, hauling him up, his back arched over the table and mouth nearly foaming in anger.

Nerial, another lieutenant. And Adarlan bastard at that as well.

And Kyllian, bending over him, forcing him back on the table, one hand poised above his head in a fist.

The entire scene has frozen with Aedion’s entrance. Every head snapping to look at him besides the the woman, who simply flinches and curls in closer to her corner of the room.

Until Aedion sees the pipe in her hand and the bloody mark on Nerial’s head.

Well then.

A man sprawled on the table, injured, another clearly enraged and about t strike, and a sobbing woman you has no trouble defending herself if damn necessary. There’s a list of things to do from here on out:

One, see if the woman wants to join the Bane, because if she’s sick enough of the shit to lash out while like this, able to keep a clear head during such a situation, then it wouldn’t hurt to have a level head like hers in the war camp. And damn if Aedion couldn’t use another level headed warrior to help balance out the bloodlust.

Two, fire and disband Nerial.

Three, keep Kyllian from killing Nerial.

Although option three could be optional.

“What’s going on here?” Aedion raises a brow, as if he hasn’t deducted the majority of the situation.

“This bastard was-“

“He grabbed me and-“

“That fucking whore is a liar-“

Nerial’s words are cut off by Kyllian’s fist slamming into his face along with a torrent of cusses from the enraged man as he slams Nerial harder into the table. As expected, the woman releases a shuddering breath, yet to Aedion’s surprise is standing, holding the pipe steadily with clear eyes.

Oh, he’ll definitely have to find someone to train her.

Perhaps Kyllian himself.

“Enough,” Aedion strides forward, pulling Kyllian back with a hand on his shoulder. “Enough, Kyllian.”

Kyllian, who can be quiet and steady at times besides his occasional joke and roguish laughter when it comes to those he trusts. Kyllian, who stands back and takes everything in with his keen attention to detail, then speaks up vehemently when he gains the chance or feels the need to.

Kyllian, who is calm like the earth.

Until, apparently, he finds a good enough reason to explode.

“This bastard was holding her down,” Kyllian’s voice shakes with rage as he slowly expels a breath, fingers uncurling. “She was telling him to stop but he didn’t listen to her.”

Aedion slides his gaze to the woman, who meets his gaze and holds it without flinching. “Is that true?”

“Yes. After he tried to tear my shirt I grabbed this pipe by the table and smashed him with it.”

Oh, he likes her.

“Right,” Aedion smiles at Nerial. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” He scoffs. “What do you mean? That bitch is the one who-“

This time it’s Aedion’s fist who smashes into his mouth, and he grabs Nerial by the back of his collar to drag him out.

“Kyllian-“ he pauses, looking over his shoulder before they leave.

“I’ll take care of the blood.”

Aedion flicks his gaze to the woman. “Look after her. We need to talk later.”

And thus, later that evening, two new members join the Bane.

Years later, and it’s never been considered a mistake.

~~~

Seven months later, and Aedion’s in the year that he turns eighteen.

So many people have said ‘you’re an adult now!’ or at the very least something along those lines.

It’s such complete and utter shit. They had no problem forcing him to become an adult when he was thirteen; there’s no point in pretending that his age matters now. Even when a group of jostling, joyous men from the Bane drag him to a tavern, and he goes along, feigning the smile and the joy. Kyllian is there as well, slapping Aedion on the back, congratulating him on his ‘ascension to adulthood.’

Fucking hilarious. Fucking hilarious that they’re happy to forget age limits when sending children to war or setting them to work, but will then later pretend it matters so they can say ‘it’s alright! This person’s now an adult!’ as an excuse for the rest of the shit they’ll have to go through in their life. All the words swallow down easier with alcohol, the drink loosening the words in his head with hushed, curled fingers that burn the back of his throat before travelling up his head.

“To Aedion!”

“Aedion!”

It’s not even his birthday. They find out he turns eighteen this year, not even knowing the date, and just decide to celebrate.

Almost as if it’s nothing but an excuse to go drink liquor.

Which it probably is, considering there’s no one left who knows or would sincerely want to celebrate the date of Aedion’s birth.

“Are you alright?” A voice, slightly deep, smoothly asks into Aedion’s ear.

Kyllian.

Kyllian, who he’s been trading looks with for at least a few months now. Kyllian, who has been paired with Aedion for nearly two years now. It would be such a lie to say that Aedion hasn’t felt his commanders gaze on him, hasn’t recognised the signs of attraction.

In all honesty, he wants it to stop.

He’ll just do what he has to do to make it stop. Once should be enough. It almost always was.

“I’m perfect,” Aedion tilts his head so his mouth brushes by Kyllian’s ear as he leans back in his seat, his voice soft and hushed. “You know, I’m an adult now, and I’m fairly certain there are rooms in the upper levels.”

He hears the swallow. “How much have you had to drink?”

“I could do a flip right now and recite all the letters in my name backwards. I’ve only had one glass.”

Enough to warm his head, enough so that he can get what they’re about to do over with, but nothing else.

Kyllian pulls back, onyx eyes studying him closely, analysing the planes of Aedion’s face and eyes. “Is this really what you want?”

“It’s something we’ve both wanted for a while.”

Not a lie, Aedion has wanted it, he has stared at Kyllian as much as Kyllian has stared at him. But he’s ready to stop wanting it. It’s tiring, the tension. And as soon as they both get it out of their system they’ll go back to normal, to just being friends again. Friends are so much safer.

Kyllian releases a shaking breath, leaning in towards Aedion again.

“Upstairs,” Aedion softly suggests, the drinking, dancing and yelling of the soldiers a distant sound in the back of his head.

He doesn’t bother locking the door when the enter the room. There’s no need to try to keep anything out.

~~~

He slips out of the bed, not at all sated when he looks down at Kyllian, laying on his stomach with one arm tucked under his head as the sun causes him to practically glow, his darker shades standing out against the pale white of the sheets. His face in unstrained, unlined, lax with sleep as his back rises and falls in easy breathing, mouth parted slightly.

It’s all Aedion can do to hold back the bile rising in his throat, to stop his hand from shaking as it clenches the doorknob. There are no bruises on either of them, no remaining marks of any kind.

They can put it behind them and be friends again, without a looks and heat and want.

Without the lust that has always brought nothing but terror into the back of Aedion’s head, no matter who it is directed from.

He closes the door behind him.

~~~

“Aedion?”

He holds the bile back again, swallowing it back down into his churning stomach as a smile force its way onto his face. he turns to grin at Kyllian.

“Where were you this morning?”

“I had to meet with some lieutenants to talk about the Bane’s positioning,” Aedion shrugs it off easily. “Ready for the meetings?”

Kyllian is staring at him, eyes inquisitive and searching, as if looking for something hidden. “Alright,” his voice is slow, hesitant. “Let’s go.”

~~~

“We need to talk.”

Aedion raises a brow at Kyllian. “Can I piss first?”

Kyllian remains leaning heavily against the door frame of the bathroom in the tavern, the room just a little ways down the hallway, tucked out of sight around the corner from the drinking men.

Not the same tavern. They haven’t been back to that one in a while.

“I want to know what the hell is going on.”

“I’m trying to piss but there’s an oaf in the doorway,” Aedion drawls, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“You were shaking,” Kyllian lowers his voice, face drawn into concern. “The other night. I thought it because of a different reason, but you were shaking like you were injured, that’s why I stopped; because I noticed something was wrong, that you weren’t happy. Talk to me, Aedion. We can’t just pretend nothing had happened.”

“We slept together,” Aedion shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe not all the way, but we both got something. It’s what we both wanted.”

“I don’t think it was,” Kyllian’s dark eyes never leave his face. “You didn’t look as though you were enjoying yourself.”

“It was fine!” Aedion resists the urge to throw his hands up, sending a cautionary glance at the men around the corner, still as loud as ever. “I did. We both got what we wanted, now we can drop it.”

Kyllian blinks at him, face going slap for a moment before rightening with understanding. “That’s what you think I wanted? Just that? Aedion, I wanted you to enjoy it too, I wanted for it to be more.”

“More?” Aedion resists frowning, instead throwing up another smirk. “There are rooms here if you didn’t get it all out of your system.”

Cruel, yes. But the sooner it’s all finished the better-

“A relationship, Aedion. I wanted a relationship.”

Kyllian watches Aedion as he processes the new information, the blond blinking rapidly, eyes far away as if reading the words over again in his mind to find a definition. Sighing, Kyllian grabs Aedion’s arm and leads him into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

The way Aedion stiffens under his touch, readying himself, says enough.

The other night, the clear displeasure and reluctance, said enough.

“Aedion,” Kyllian keeps his voice low, largely aware of the people outside the room. “What did you think I wanted?”

“To fuck,” Aedion scowls, leaning out of his grip. “And we did, or at the very least came close to.”

“I won’t lie,” Kyllian shakes his head, “that was somewhere in the agenda. But I want to know what you wanted. Did you really want us to do what we did?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because it just does.”

This time Aedion does throw his hands up, a growl finally escaping, his control dissipated. “You got what you wanted! So the looks, the touches, the advances can just stop! I’m not willing to go through so much pain just for the chance of making another person feel good! I’m sick of it!”

This time it’s Kyllian who blinks, looking near knocked off his feet. “Is that what you think a relationship is?”

“No!” Aedion growls, then pulls it back, shaking his head. “No, I know it’s not. It’s just- shit-“

“It doesn’t have to be painful,” Kyllian swallows, throat dry and pained suddenly. “No, it shouldn’t be. It should never be painful. Not the intimacy, not the relationship, none of it. That’s not what I wanted.”

“Then what do you want?” Aedion’s anger strangely enough slips away, leaving him tired and drained as he leans against the wall. “We did it, you got some intimacy. I did it so you would be sated and we could move on.”

“That’s not why you should do something like that,” Kyllian shakes his head. “Not to get it over and done with, not to please another person so you won’t have to deal with their advances. You could have just asked me to stop.”

“Trust me,” Aedion laughs humorously, “it’s not the worse reason I’ve been intimate with anyone.”

A silence stretches between them, long and thin, unable to be filled by words because neither party knows what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Kyllian finally says, swallowing thickly. “I didn’t know my current advances were making you feel so uncomfortable and pressured. I’m sorry the wrong message got across. I really wan’t just after the physical intimacy. But you need to know that a relationship is about mutual effort, that you shouldn’t have to put yourself through pain to make others happy. That’s not what I want at all.”

Aedion shakes his head slightly too. “I don’t really know what you want now.”

Kyllian sucks in a slow breath, then expels it. “I don’t think you understand either. Give me a chance to change your views, and if you continue to not want a relationship with me then we can just go back to being friends. I swear it. I just want to give you a chance to see what it could be instead fo what you think it may be. I think some mistakes have been made in what we both thought the other wanted.”

Aedion examines him closely. “What did you have in mind?”

It’s annoying, how different it is with him. How he truly believes that Kyllian will keep his word, that his smile at Aedion’s response is genuine. Perhaps because he knows Kyllian, because he’s seen him defend people’s rights and Aedion’s own, because he stopped the other night even though he could have continued. It feels as though things could be different.

And maybe even good.

~~~

Present time

~~~

“Your father did know about our relationship, right?”

“Yes, Kyllian,” Aedion smirks as he exits the training ring, an equally exhausted Kyllian in tow. “We talked about it.”

“Right.”

There’s a few moments of silence.

“He’s not going to kill me, is he?”

Snorting, Aedion chugs a glass of water, wiping at his mouth once done. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Kyllian shifts uncomfortable, dragging a hand through his wild mane of black hair. “I keep getting this feeling that I’m being watched? I swear I keep hearing growls and stuff since I’ve arrived. And maybe a feather here and there, which is confusing.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Aedion shakes is head, a genuine smile on his face.

“I’m serious!” Kyllian follows after him. “Aedion! What do I do if your cadre uncles interrogate me?”

“My what?” Aedion chokes. “You do realise that one of them is my father, and the other practically my brother-in-law, yes?”

Kyllian continues to scowl. “What about Lorcan, Fenrys and Vaughan?”

“Lorcan isn’t even here.”

“And thank the gods for that.”

“You’re overreacting,” Aedion rolls his eyes.

“I swear to the gods your father is just waiting for the right time to interrogate me. Fenrys has already suggested us training together.”

“You should do it.”

“Of course I am, it’s the cadre. But what if he questions me?”

“I don’t know,” Aedion groans, turning away. “You’ve survived war interrogation. You’ll be fine.”

“No, I won’t be!”

~~~

“So, Kyllian,” Fenrys flashes him a grin, flipping the sword in his hand, “How long have you known Aedion now?”

“Since he was sixteen, so eight years.”

That answer would be a lot less unnerving to give if Gavriel, Rowan and Vaughan weren’t standing right next to the ring in a line, watching intently.

“Eight years is a long time to know someone.”

“I guess it is,” Kyllian tries smiling, “but compared to your hundreds of years as members of the cadre it must seem small.”

The smile slowly disappears as it gets no response, the former cadre members all watching without amusement. Except Fenrys, who grins and taunts like a beast that found food to play with.

Kyllian wonders how he and Aedion get along. They’re quite alike. Gods help anyone that are stuck in a room with the two of them.

“So,” Kyllian tries to find conversation, “have you trained with Lysandra yet?”

“Of course,” Fenrys shrugs, then onyx eyes meet onyx eyes. “Then again, we know Lysandra. She’s not a stranger from a war camp that suddenly popped up that we know nothing about.”

Kyllian swallows.

“Tell us about yourself.”

“I’m twenty-six years old and am a native from the Fangs. I joined the ranks when I was fifteen and then met Aedion years later when I was eighteen and he was sixteen, and once he turned eighteen we had a romantic relationship that lasted three years before falling back into friendship. We were friends first, and have always worked best as such.”

Fenrys’ eyebrows flick up at the last statement. “So you relationship wasn’t a good one?”

“It was one of the best relationships of my life,” Kyllian answers with surety and without hesitation. “I enjoyed every moment of it, but in the end it couldn’t be sustained. We just realised that our relationship was beginning to be based one friendship more then romance, and decided that the healthiest option would be to remain close friends and nothing more. We didn’t want to try to force a romantic connection when it had merged more into friendship.”

“That couldn’t have been an easy conversation,” Fenrys appraises Kyllian in a new light.

“I won’t pretend it was,” Kyllian can’t keep his voice from quieting.

Fenrys nods, a new appreciation in his eyes. “Good… Now what happened at the bar?”

“Fenrys.”

It shocks Kyllian how all the fae males can bark the word at the same time yet in three different, terrifying ways.

~~~

Four years ago

~~~

“Shit,” Aedion breathes in shakily, kicking the door to the tavern open. “This place is just as deserted as everywhere else.”

Kyllian quickly forges in after him, turning around and bolting the door against the blizzard. Without prompting Aedion quickly strides towards the fire place, thanking the gods under his breath for the dry wood. He removes the moves from his hands after he drops the flint twice, finally striking up a fire.

“It’s actually not too bad in here,” Kyllian sheds his jacket, allowing the snow-sodden thing to fall on the ground.

Aedion in turn sheds his heavy jacket, sighing in relief and rolling his shoulders at the freedom of no longer having the weight upon him. Kyllian collapses in front of the fire, inching as close to the flames as he dares. Aedion takes in their surroundings, from the tables, to the seats, to the-

“Kyllian,” Aedion blinks. “It’s the bar.”

“What?”  
“That’s the bar. This is the tavern from three years ago.”

Slowly, Kyllian sits up from where he had sprawled on his back. “Aedion, I know you’re a trickster-“

“There’s booze.”

Kyllian leaps to his feet. “Fantastic.”

Three bottles later and their both laughing quietly in the empty tavern, Aedion pushed back against the bar with Kyllian trailing kisses down his neck, Aedion’s scar flecked hands tugging at his shirt. Aedion in turn pushes his body back against Kyllian’s, breathing in deeply, relishing in the fire that stirs underneath his skin. Not the kind of fire that burns under his flesh, that makes him want to scrub at his body until its clean of all traces of intimacy, but the kind of fire that warms him to the pit of his core, that lights up underneath Kyllian’s lips in a blazing trail.  
Kyllian in turn groans against Aedion’s skin, pushing back with just as much urgency.  
The bottle on the bar rattle, even as they fall to the ground.

~~~

Present time

~~~

Kyllian looks Fenrys in the eye, who is still flinching at the yells and mutterings of the other former-cadre members. “You want to know what happened at the bar?”

Interest captured, Fenrys’ head whips around to look at Kyllian, eyes wide.

“We fucked.”

There’s dead silence, Fenrys’ eyes widening slowly, his mouth parting as the sword in his hand goes lax. All the other former cadre members have frozen in their movements, starting at Kyllian in what he can only guess is horror, Gavriel himself particularly pale.

So Kyllian turns on his heel and runs.

_“Where the fuck do-“_

_“Holy shit, boyo really did-“_

_“Gavriel you need to sit-“_

_“The fucking bas-“_

Aedion holds no sympathy as he watches his friend be hunted down through the castle by four ancient fae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always kudos and comments appreciated, especially requests, which I love writing!


	10. Shatter, Colour, Patter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedion talks to his father about his regrets... and meets his uncles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I tried to fill in the requests for Aedion's uncles and Gavriel's POV.

12.

 

“Do you even know half the things your son has done?”

 

Gavriel can’t help but blink at the short woman in front of him, her face so red and swelled that he first believed she was approaching him to request some kind of aid. Yet the way her fists clench and shake at her sides accompanied by her rasping breaths suggests rage instead of fear.

 

Rage aimed at his son.

 

“I’m sorry,” Gavriel turns to properly face her, the large courtyard empty besides them. “Has something occurred? I’d be happy to help if anything-“

 

“He killed my boy.”

 

Gavriel pauses, lowering his hand as the woman gulps down air with the desperation of a person drowning in their tears. She has a Terrasen accent, signalling that she is a native of the land. Was her son also from Terrasen? Is that why she is angered; does she believe Aedion’s choices as the general resulted in her son’s death on the battle field? Or did her son work for Adarlan and Aedion killed him in the midst of the war?

 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Gavriel’s voice remains grave, finally beginning to understand the weight of what losing a child may feel like.

 

“He stabbed him in the back,” the woman laughs harshly, the sound lacking the mirth that usually accompanies the action. “Literally and figuratively. He worked for the Terrasen army and your son, who worked for the king, slaughtered him. I don’t care if he was a spy, or a liar or whatever the hell he was. He killed people of Terrasen for the king, and nobody does anything about it.”

 

The words are somewhere, somewhere deep down where Gavriel can’t find them to bring them up his throat. Maybe they aren’t there at all, perhaps the words are all just lost somewhere, unable to find their way to him. Seeing that he has nothing to say, nothing at all, the woman turns around and walks away, sobbing as he does.

 

He knew. Gavriel knew his son played both sides of the war for the sake of Terrasen, but it never occurred to him that there would be those that hate Aedion for doing so. That his son could be detested by people whom he stole sons, fathers, sisters and mothers from. He knows Aedion’s nightmares, has watched his son thrash as invisible flames lick at his skin and dig in their splintering teeth, but it has never occurred to him before that perhaps Aedion isn’t the one being burnt. Perhaps he is the one doing the burning.

 

~~~

 

The pale, drawn look on Aedion’s face all throughout dinner gives Gavriel enough of an indication as to wether or not the woman approached his son. Aedion sits two seats down from him, next to Lysandra, not at all oblivious to the looks his father sends his way. The famous Ashryver eyes meet tawny gold, and then flick away, the body movement following by such a small degree that Gavriel wouldn’t have noticed in if not for the close attention he’s been paying to Aedion’s tells. Such as the tell of guilt that he’s now displaying.

 

Gavriel needs to talk to his son.

 

As if sensing his father’s intentions, Aedion drifts away as soon as dinner comes to a close, slipping around corners and tangling himself in the endless maze of hallways. If not for the way Gavriel’s senses easily pick up on the scent of his child it would have taken the Lion much longer to find the eldest blonde Ashryver. Aedion himself seems to realise how futile his attempt at escape are, Gavriel finally finding him sitting on the ledge of a large doorway, looking out into the gardens with his hands clasped and elbows resting on his knees.

 

“I know she talked to you,” Aedion keeps his focus on the flush green of the gardens, not sparring Gavriel a glance as his father sits by him. 

 

Sitting patiently, Gavriel waits. There’s no point in asking the question when they both so clearly know what it is, when they’re both aware of what direction the conversation may take.

 

“Have you ever done something you regret deeply?” Aedion’s voice is a somber baritone, too deep and pained for someone his age. “Something that weighs on your soul until you learn to walk with it’s heavy weight? To breath with barely any air?”

 

The words, so carefully crafted from grief, shouldn’t draw a surprised laugh out of Gavriel the way they do. His son’s head jerks to look at him, eyes wide, leaning to the side slightly with one arm braced on his knee, face painted with disbelief. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Gavriel chuckles, drawing back his breaths. “Aedion, I’m over five hundred years old, nearing six hundred. If I didn’t have regrets it wouldn’t be much of a life.”

 

He can see the words being processed in his son’s mind in the way Aedion’s eyes focus in the distance, as if reading Gavriel’s words in the air to find a proper definition. “What do you regret the most?”

 

The Lion’s heart nearly stutters to a stop.

 

~~~

 

_“Did you hear?”_

 

_“I heard she left the family first.”_

 

_“Something about being disowned maybe?”_

 

_“Buried where she lived-“_

 

_Gone?_

 

_No, she can’t be gone. Not her, not when she was fine just a few years ago, with her vivid eyes and golden hair and smile that, gods-be-damned, could defeat the sun._

 

_Not someone so bright, so young and full of joy and love._

 

_If only-_

 

~~~

 

“Your mother,” Gavriel croaks out. “Leaving your mother and not knowing about your existence. Not being there for your childhood, to aid and protect you.”

 

Aedion sucks in a slow, shuddering breath. “I once helped murder a legion of Terrasen men to keep my cover in front of an Adarlan general.”

 

~~~

 

_It’s broken_

 

_The bond. It’s..._

 

_Broken._

 

_And the pain, it’s too much for just a wound in the arm. But the breaking of a blood oath is so much more than physical injuries. It’s a cracking and realigning of the soul. But then again..._

_That sadness is gone. That controlling hand that grasps and twists and gives orders is gone. Finally._

 

_Yet the iron coffin is still brought forward. Yet still, out of all this pain, nothing is achieved. If only Meave had agreed, if only the punishment could have been shifted..._

 

~~~

 

“I regret not being able to stop Maeve’s capturing of Aelin,” Gavriel’s voice has become the same quiet whisper as his sons, their conversation so out of place on the sunny day they look upon. “Of failing to protect her.”

 

“No one asked you to protect her. Or me.”

 

Gavriel has no answer.

 

~~~

 

“- _you doom your son to die.”_

 

_Son?  
_

_Son?_

 

_The air is gone, gone and sucked out of the room and why has silence come when Rowan is still talking and Fenrys is looking with concern why-_

 

_Son._

 

_Goods gods._

 

_But that means... that means that a child was born. Not the young female that looked so much like her yet was too young, no. Another child. The irony of dismissing the idea, and yet-_

 

_A son._

 

~~~

 

“I once burned down a church,” Aedion shares his shame, face more sheepish then guilty. “Not on the kings orders. I just accidentally started a fire.”

 

Gavriel stares at his son and, once again, has to struggle to keep a straight face. “I- did anyone die? I mean- good gods, you didn’t kill a priest or priestess did you? _”_

 

“No...”

 

“But?”

 

“But I shattered the stained glass window on purpose,” Aedion catches his father’s exasperated look. “What? I was already burning! And the look of that coloured glass shattering as the fire illuminated the colours was magnificent.”

 

Gavriel mutters under his breath, warped words of irresponsible teenagers and young adults before turning to his son once again. “That doesn’t count as a guilt if you‘re proud of it.”

 

“I‘m not!”

 

“Aedion.”

 

“Find, maybe a little.”

 

Gavriel shakes his head, but resolved himself to his son’s guilt. “Fine. I regret not knowing of your existence. Of needing to hear it from Rowan as a bargaining chip instead of in a more joyous way.”

 

Aedion snorts. “I’m still pissed at him for that.”

 

“I would have found out sooner or later.”

 

“Not the point. It was about me and you, not him. I understand why he did it, but I’m still pissed.”

 

“I assume you hold grudges?”

 

“Why do you think Kyllian hasn’t come back in the castle?” Aedion’s lips twitch just barely into a smile.

 

“That’s about right,” Gavriel mutters under his breath.

 

“He’s not that bad.”

 

“Very few people manage to aggravate me the way he and Fenrys do.”

 

“Right,” Aedion laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I can’t forget what I’ve done to these people. And neither can they.”

 

“You gave everything for them,” Gavriel reminds his son softly.

 

“I know,” Aedion’s gaze is solemn, his smile sad, “but there were times where I almost took everything as well.”

 

“You just need to learn from those times. I know that it’s overpaid and doesn’t help the guilt, but in truth nothing will. You’ll never be able to erase your mistakes, and I won’t lie by saying that the guilt and shame will never haunt you,” Gavriel meets his son’s eyes head on. “But the only way you can make it worse is by learning nothing from them, by making them completely pointless. Don’t do that, Aedion. Remember and learn from them. I’m not telling you to ignore them, that’ll do nothing but cause the guilt to fester, so just learn to accept them. If you ever need to speak of them don’t hesitate to talk to me, you learn and release by reflection.”

 

His son nods solemnly, the two of them turning back to the picturesque scene in front of them, two children playing in the gardens in the distance. 

 

“But really, a _church?_ ”

 

“How many times do I need to apologies!?”

 

“Depends. How many churches have you burnt down again?”

 

“Just the two!”

 

“Right- wait.  _Two_?”

 

 

13.

 

Steel clangs against steel, Aedion quickly shifting his feet underneath him as Gavriel advances faster and faster towards him. Sweat slowly rolls down his face, neck, back, as his father advances at a terrifying pace. 

He’s forced back another step, Gavriel sweeping his sword in a quick manoeuvre that throws him off balance. In the corner of his mind Aedion is aware of the warriors that have stopped to watch them, quickly clearing the thought sin his head to give his father his undivided attention.

Gods, the Lion is vicious.

Aedion barely sees what Gavriel does, barely rkegestures that fake feint to the right that he falls for before-

 

“Shit.”

 

Aedion wheezes, staring up at the roof.

 

“You held out longer this time,” Gavriel smiles down at him, content with allowing Aedion time to regain his breath. “You still need to work on your defence.”

 

“I always have,” Aedion accepts the hand to stand, pulling himself up. “Where did you learn to fight?”

 

Something flickers in Gavriel’s eyes. “My father.”

 

Aedion pauses, absorbing the information. His grandfather. “What was he like?”

 

“He was,” Gavriel’s mouth tightens, “distant. Strong, steady, but distant at best. As a lord he had many duties to attend to, my mother equally as busy as a lady.”

 

Another piece of information to store away. “I heard you had two older brothers? Are they still alive?”

 

He swears that the Lion, the white-knight of Terrasen, winces. That an invisible shudder slides its way up his body before settling into a jerk.

 

“They are,” Gavriel’s eyes shift to the side, his body angling away.

 

“I have uncles?” Aedion rubs at his chest, at the bruise sure to form there. “Where are they?”

 

“Most likely working with Rowan’s relatives, working out how to handle the territories now that Meave is gone.”

 

“Why haven’t we come into contact with them?” Aedion flips his shield up with his foot, easily grabbing it. 

 

“After I took the blood bond we fell out of contact,” grief flickers in Gavriel’s eyes. “I wrote them a letter, but they haven’t replied.”

 

“Do they have children?” Aedion feels dread creep up his spines. “Do I have more cousins?”

 

Aelin, Elide and Galan are more than enough. Any more and he’ll be worn down to the bone from negotiating and fighting. 

 

And fires.

 

Honestly, two of them don’t even have fire magic yet still find a way on a weekly basis.

 

Fucking arsonists. 

 

“No,” Gavriel shakes his head, smiling as if reading Aedion’s thoughts. “We’re old fae. To have children is increasingly difficult for us. The very fact that my mother managed to birth three children at all was rare. The very fact that you exist is even rarer.”

 

“And your elder brother rules your land?”

 

“Correct.”

 

“And he has no heir?”

 

“None that I know of,” Gavriel claps Aedion on the shoulder, laughing under his breath. “Of course, there could be more secret sons in the family.”

 

A joke that sparks a smile on Aedion’s face instead of rage. 

 

“But if he and your middle brother have no heir, and you do, then who will the land go to once they die?”

 

He sees the realisation draw on Gavriel, the way his father’s tawny eyes slowly slide to him. Gavriel’s body stiffens, his hand on Aedion’s shoulder becoming cold. 

 

~~~

 

“Stop laughing,” Aedion growls, arms crossed.

 

“You-“ Aelin gasps, grinning brightly at Aedion. “You’re the lord of a land you’ve never even been to.”

 

“Potential lord,” Gavriel cuts in, face riddled with worried, sitting forward to clasp his hands. 

 

Sunlight pours into Aelin’s office, lighting the walls and carpet in a holden glow. The queen sits behind her desk, paperwork cast to the side, Rowan leaning against the wall behind her with an equally amused expression.

 

“Potential lord,” Aelin rolls her eyes. “So neither of Gavriel’s brothers have any known children. That means that when they die the land goes to Gavriel. Then Aedion.”

  
“Yes,” Gavriel recline back in his chair. “From what I’ve heard my eldest brother hasn’t sired children. My second eldest brother and his husband haven’t adopted or found help to have a child either.” 

 

“Right,” Aelin grins wickedly, glancing between the two of them. “Does Galan and our wonderful Ashryver family know that you own land?”

 

It would give some the elders a heart attack. It already shocked them enough to know that they had rejected the son of one of Meave’s greatest warriors. While the look on their faces would be pleasing it could also add further complications. 

 

“They don’t know,” Aedion increases his glare. “For all we know one of Gavriel’s brothers may have a child.”

 

“I wouldn’t know if they do,” Gavriel wipes at his face with a scarred, tattooed hand. “They didn’t respond to the letters I sent them.”

 

“Just ask them tomorrow,” Rowan frowns. 

 

Slowly, Gavriel blinks, the motion more feline than human. “Tomorrow?”

 

Rowan cocks his head. “Tomorrow. I know that your communication with them has been rough but I would have thought you’d like to be here when they arrive.”

 

Silence drops through the room, a clock loud and clear, ticking away.

 

Aedion resists the urge to sink low in his seat. His uncles. The brothers of one of the most known warriors in the world. The _older_ brothers, who were raised by the same distant father and busy mother. Will they be as steady and kind as the lion, or will they try to rip apart any unwanted cubs they find?

 

~~~

 

“Good gods, you’re tall!”

 

Aedion stiffens immediately at the two strong arms that wrap around him, dragging him into a strong hug. His eldest uncle pats him heartedly on the back, knocking the air from Aedion’s lungs. His second uncle and his husband both swoop in for hugs next. 

He glances at Aelin, who blinks at them from her throne. As soon as they had spotted Aedion the two males walked right up to him, wrapping him in arms and patting his shoulders to ask him a barrage of questions. Fenrys smirks by Rowan, sneakily whispering something to the silver-haired male that causes him to snort. 

 

Gavriel stands next to Aedion, also blinking at the onslaught of his brothers as they switch between hugging Aedion to hugging him. 

Once they’re done they pull back, smiling the same smile that Aedion inherited from his father. 

 

The eldest brother, Heiral, has the same golden hair and tanned skin as Gavriel, his hair just a little longer than Gavriel’s. His features aren’t as broad, his eyes just a darker shade. Handsome, yet lean intelligence lines his frame. he excitedly beams at Aedion, joy radiating. 

 

The middle brother, Marco, his hair a shade darker than both his brothers. His skin is the same golden shade, leaner than Gavriel yet stronger looking than Heiral. He has a slightly calmer than Heiral, his excitement softer and quieter. His husband, Leo, has darker brown hair, green eyes and a wide smile, his excitement making up for Marco’s quiet reaction. 

 

“Look at you!” Heiral grins, grabbing Aedion by the shoulders to shake him slightly. “You’re as tall as we are!”

 

Indeed, all three brothers are just as tall. Elide has to crane her neck to look at them from where she stands by Lorcan, eyes wide. Lorcan himself takes in the situation stoically, his angling in front of Elide the only sign of his apprehension. 

 

“Right,” Aedion glances to his father, Gavriel standing helplessly to the side.

 

“We came as soon as we heard you were Gavriel’s son,” Marco smiles, stepping forward to pat Aedion’s shoulder. “A warrior, just like your father.”

 

“Right,” Aedion repeats, fighting the urge to step back from the two males.

 

“Meeting you is all they’ve been talking about,” Leo grins. “All the way here it was ‘I wonder what Gavriel’s son is like!’ and ‘should we bring anything?’ and ‘is it rude to show up without a kingdom-warming gift?’”

 

“We never said that!” Heiral rolls his eyes. “A kingdom-warming gift. As if we’d suggest that.”

 

“But we did bring a plant,” Marco shrugs, gesturing to the small fern he placed by Gavriel’s feet. “We were in a rush. Sorry.”

 

“Thank you for the gift,” Aelin rises from her throne, sending Aedion a questioning glance.

 

He stares back helplessly, eyes wide and bewildered.

 

“I guess we’re family, so you can stay as long as you want,” Aelin smiles brightly, it only a little forced. “We’ve already prepared rooms for you.”

 

Heiral turns from Aedion to bow deeply, Marco copying his actions. “Thank you, your majesty.”

 

“I heard you helped Rowan’s cousins and family de-throne Meave?” Aelin raises a brow.

 

“No one liked that controlling bitch,” Marco mutters under his breath, turning back to Aedion. 

 

A wide smirk spreads on Aelin’s face. “Right. You three are definitely welcome to stay as long as you want.”

 

“We’re just sorry we couldn’t come sooner,” Heiral shrugs, turning back to Gavriel. “We heard you were injured?”

 

Dumbly, Gavriel nods, unable to speak.

 

“Look at that scar; of course he was,” Marco snorts. “When is he not hurt? First you went off to be a warrior than you got yourself blood-sworn to a psycho bitch-queen.” 

 

Everyone in the room pauses at that, except Aelin, who releases a loud bout of laughter. Heiral winces in embarrassment, Marco just grinning at the bellowing queen. 

 

“There was no greater honour at the time!” Gavriel replies in a tone that suggests they’ve had this conversation many times.

 

Marco shakes his head, still scowling. “You could have at least told us you had a child!”

 

“I didn’t know until a year ago!”

  
“Then why did it take us hearing rumours and stories to learn about Aedion? You could have sent a letter a year ago!”

 

“I did!” Gavriel rubs at his face. “I sent you both a letter for the first time in years a few days ago! If I knew you were coming I would have just _waited!_ ”

 

“It is good to see you again, Gavriel,” Leo chuckles, stepping forward to embrace his brother-in-law warmly.  

 

Sighing, releasing his tension, Gavriel returns the gesture. “And you, Leo. How has your family been?”

 

“As expected,” Leo raises his brows. “Don’t let them fool you; these two have missed you as much as you missed them. They just didn’t want to get tangled anywhere near Meave.” 

 

“Leo,” Marco hisses. 

 

“Well, Meave is dead,” Heiral grins brightly, clapping Aedion on the shoulder once again. “And we have a new nephew to learn about!”

 

“I’ll have someone show you to your rooms first,” Aelin clears her throat, fighting back a smile. “You can join us for dinner if you’d like?” 

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Heiral bows again, turning sheepish. “Please excuse our excitement. We’d be honoured to dine with you all.”

 

“Excellent,” Aelin nods. “Then we’ll see you tonight.”

 

Leo, Heiral and Marco all leave the hall, winding away. Everyone waits a few moments, unwilling to speak when the fae males may hear them if they are not far away enough.

 

Finally, after three minutes, Aelin brakes the silence.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

Aedion releases a shuddering breath at the words, laughing as he buries his head in his hands. Aelin joins him, chuckling under her own breath.

 

“I thought they were going to be terrifying,” Aedion stares wide-eyed at his father.

 

Gavriel, looking dazed and off-put, stares down at the fern. “I-It has been a few years…”

 

“I love them,” Aelin grins. “We’re inviting them over for every future holiday.”

 

“Gods, yes!” Fenrys cackles, clearly delighted by the idea.

 

“Aedion, are you alright?” Elide asks over the chatter.

 

“Fine,” Aedion brushes off his shirt. “I was honestly expecting them to be giant, tattooed warriors that wanted to fight me.”

 

Gavriel frowns at his son. “Where exactly do you think I come from? I told you that I took to soldiering thanks to my lack of land to inherit. Marco and Heiral took on the more political roles.”

 

“I just didn’t expect that,” Aedion runs his hands through his hair, beating back the desire to slouch. “Were you?”

 

Gavriel hesitates. “My ties to Meave were the biggest strain on our relationship. They didn’t like her or what she stood for, Marco especially.”

 

“I love Marco,” Aelin murmurs under her breath.  

 

“I didn’t think they’d hug me,” Aedion glances in the direction they went, as if expecting them to magically reappear for another embrace.

 

“You’re the first new member of our family,” Gavriel sighs, picking up the fern. “Just get ready for dinner. We may have some difficult conversations.”

 

~~~

 

“-and then Marco flew off the front of the sled, I dropped of the back, and Gavriel just keep going!” Heiral grins.

 

Aedion bellows with laughter, Lysandra, Aelin, Rowan and Fenrys all following suit. Even Marco and Gavriel crack smiles themselves.

 

“Honestly,” Heiral chokes out through his laughter, “your father seemed to be fearless from the day he was born!”

 

“I can imagine that,” Lysandra grins. 

 

As soon as they had met the shifter Marco, Leo and Heiral had been delighted, all of them taking turns in meeting the shifter, shaking her hand, and (to Aelin and Lysandra’s amusement) thanking her for ‘taking such good care of Aedion.’ She in like just laughed and hugged the brothers back, enjoying their company as much as Aelin. 

It’s refreshing, to have new faces.

 

And Aedion, as much as hates to admit it, is starting to relax around the three strangers. They tell him stories of their childhood with Gavriel. they listen to the stories Aedion tells in return, they don’t blink an eye at Lysandra or the rumours they’ve most likely heard about Aedion himself. 

It’s so strange to find out that he has new family. Family that he never knew he had, and yet is now surrounding him, clapping him on the back and calling him ‘nephew.’

It’s strangely appealing, in a way, to know that he has more blood-relatives ready to stand by him. 

 

“I remember the first time Gavriel turned into a lion,” Marco grins. “He took his time.”

 

“It’s a family trait,” Leo smiles at Aedion. “All three of these giant cats have had the ability since they were young. At the very least they were all over ten when they first shifted into their animal form.”

 

“What about you?” Heiral grins at Aedion, leaning in closer. “Learn how to roar yet?”

 

“I’ve always done that,” Aedion snorts.

 

Heiral laughs, sitting back. “Guess you inherited that family trait!”

 

“But can you shift?” Marco examines Aedion. “Do you have either a fae or animal form?”

 

At that, Aedion hesitates. “I’ve never shifted.”

 

“Yet you’ve progressed far in your training,” Gavriel smiles warmly at his son. “Maybe one day you’ll be able to shift.”

 

“He’s the lions cub,” Marco rolls his eyes, gesturing to Aedion with his glass. “He’ll probably shift at the worse possible moment. Like Gavriel did.”

 

Aedion leans forward eagerly. “Tell me.”

 

“We don’t need to go into details,” Gavriel clears his throat, coming close to glaring at his brother.

 

“I’d like to hear,” Aedion scowls at his father before turning to grin at his eldest uncle. “Tell me.”

 

“I’d like to know as well,” Aelin grins a similar smirk, leaning in anticipation.

 

“Our mother was holding a gala with other lords and ladies of the land attending,” Heiral twirls his fork, smirking. “Gavriel never really liked those things. He preferred to to out and about and moving. Of course, he’s known for his legendary patience, but as a child he struggled more in concealing his desire to avoid the gatherings.”

 

“Not that we were any better,” Marco rolls his eyes. “Those things are torture.”

 

“So during the gala we were all standing around, ready to eat food,” Heiral braces his arms on the table. “Our mother was up front, speaking about some issue or another- I can’t remember which, it was over five hundred years ago- while wearing a family heirloom. A necklace with a tiny, small ruby on the end shaped like a tear drop.”

 

Gavriel places his head in his hands. Aedion notices, then switches his attention back to his uncle.

 

“During the speech, our dear, lovely mother… slipped,” Heiral grins slowly, drawing out the story, gathering everyone’s attention. “It was a tidal wave of people all rushing forward to grab her, desperate to catch the hard-working Lady of the lands! And while those hands were grappling for her the ruby necklace, the one she wore all her life, _flew_ off her neck, _vaulted_ over the crowd and _soared_ right above our heads!”  

 

“And Gavriel turned into a lion, jumped up and grabbed it,” Marco raises his brows at his brother, “then swallowed it.”

 

Aedion can barely breath, doubling over much like everyone else.

 

“It was a good effort considering it was the first time he turned into a lion,” Heiral shrugs, barely hiding his smirk. “So, boyo, when was the first time you turned into a lion?”

 

Aedion’s laugh dries up into a cough. “I haven’t actually ever turned into a lion before.” 

 

“Never?” Marco tilts his head, brows scrunched. “You have a high amount of fae blood so it should be possible.”

 

“Well,” Aedion’s eyes slide to the side, “there was never really an opportunity to try with magic closed off.”

 

“Of course!” Heiral grins. “And now that magic is freed we can help!”

 

Gavriel splutters into his drink, pulling back as he coughs. “I’m sorry?”

 

“We’ll teach the boy how to shift!” Heiral grins, slapping Gavriel on the back. “Get the lion his cub.”

 

All the gulps are almost audible.

 

~~~

 

“Really, we don’t have to do this-“

 

“Nonsense,” Marco smiles at Aedion, apparently on board with the plan as much as his other brother. “This’ll also be a good opportunity to all get to know about each other.”

 

All of them. Such as Heiral and Marco standing in the straining ring with Aedion, Leo standing to the side with Gavriel pacing behind him. And Aedion would be a fool to assume that the bird watching from a tree isn’t Rowan, that the ghost leopard he saw on his way wasn’t Lysandra, and that Fenrys isn’t the wolf lurking around the ring. Thank the gods Lorcan and Vaughan aren’t here. Three birds of prey would be suspicious.

 

Right, as if the wolf and leopard aren’t obvious. 

 

“So,” Marco smiles gently at Aedion, obviously scenting his nerves, “have you gone through any breathing exerci-“

 

“Yes,” Aedion quickly jumps in. “Gods, yes.” 

 

“Alright?” Marco slides his gaze to Gavriel for confirmation, who nods. “Alright. Then I guess we have to go onto the physical side of things. How often do you train?”

 

“Four to six hours a day,” Aedion shrugs loosely. “Three if I’m too busy.”

 

“Alright,” Heiral mutters. “It’s obviously not a physical thing. Maybe you don’t have enough magic? Or maybe your body just doesn’t feel safe enough to shift?”

 

Gavriel catches the small jolt that goes through his son at that, and perks up in curiosity. “Aedion? Do you think that could be it?”

 

“I don’t know,” Aedion hesitates. “Being fae has been a dangerous thing to be for years.”

 

“Of course,” Marco says lowly, deep in thought. “The war broke out when you were, what, thirteen? That’s the age demi-fae can start experiencing changes, such as growing magic or a shift in forms. But your magic and shifting abilities were cut off, and along with that you watched fae be persecuted and locked up-“

 

“And burnt and tortured,” Aedion can’t help but interrupt, brief anger flashing through him. “Most of the fae died. Many were burnt alive.”

 

He can sense Gavriel’s gaze on him, yet he can’t help it. They had no help, and he won’t allow them to ignorantly believe that the majority of the fae were taken prisoners. He won’t spit on the past in such a way.

 

And they seem to understand that. Both his uncles nod, faces grave. Marco leans in a little closer to Aedion, eyes narrowed.

 

“You know,” Marco peers closely at his eyes, “you may just not be mature enough yet.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“What he means,” Heiral steps in with a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “is that we all may have tawny eyes, but when we were born we all had blue eyes. As they mature a lions eyes become fully gold, losing the blue. Now, thanks to your Ashryver blood it could mean that that’s just the way your eyes are, but once you settle there’s a chance the gold will continue to grow. You magic could just still be young and brewing inside of you.”

 

“Basically, in fae lion terms, you’re still a cub,” Marco simplifies. “And cubs can’t shift yet.”

 

Silence rings out, no one saying anything as Gavriel turns slightly, a hand raising to cover the smile on his mouth, Leo doing the same at Aedion’s expression. Marco and Heiral just smile at him expectantly, calm with the situation.

 

However, Fenrys apparently can’t hold his wolf form when laughing.

 

Aedion will have to kill him later.

 

~~~

 

“I’m going to miss your uncles,” Aelin mourns, picking at her dinner.

 

“They’re coming back next holidays,” Aedion reminds her. “No need to miss them for long.”

 

“True. Hey, cub, can you pass the-“

 

“No,” Aedion glares at Aelin.  
 

Muttering, the queen reaches across her cousin to claim the salt herself. “I bet you wouldn’t mind it if Gavriel ever called you a cub.”

 

Aedion’s eyes slice to his father. “Did you know?”

 

Gavriel pauses in his eating, cocking his head to the side. “I knew you were a lion cub, yes. Once your magic builds up a bit more you may be able to shift. It’s just a matter of waiting now.”

 

“And- I’m sorry,” Lysandra tries to keep a straight face from where she its next to Aedion. “Once he shifts will he be a fully grown lion or…?”

 

“Well he’s never shifted or grown in his animal form before, and it’s been locked away, so he’d most likely be a young lion, yes,” Gavriel leans away from the icy glare his son has him pinned under. “A lot of fae shift into a younger animal the first time they shift.”

 

“True,” Rowan nods from besides Aelin. “They usually grow quite quickly. However,” he raises his brows at Aedion, “there’s no telling what effects will occur thanks to having your fae side leashed for so long.”

 

Aedion mutters under his brother angrily, turning back to his food.

 

“Aw, don’t be so upset, boyo,” Fenrys grins from where he’s seated. “I mean, you were already the lion’s cub. Not much of a difference now.”

 

He just avoids the salt shaker aimed at his head. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Well now I want to write about Aedion shifting into a lion. 
> 
> As always, comments and requests greatly appreciated!


	11. Skitter, Skatter, Roar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two stories in one chapter: one version where Aedion turns into a wolf pup, and another where he's a lion pup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide between a lion cub or a wolf pup so here's both!

14.

 

It started as a joke. A joke that, admittedly, brought a small smile on Gavriel’s face, even as Aedion scowled. Yet it has continued on, Lysandra, Aelin, Fenrys and Kyllian using the nickname as a jab. Something to quip before they snicker.

 

“Hey, cub!”

 

“Kyllian,” Aedion sucks in a deep breath, “I swear to the gods, if you keep this up you will regret it.”

 

“Wow,” The commander’s brows flick up, “Gavriel must be rubbing off on you if you bother with threats instead of jumping to the punch.”

 

“You annoy me,” Aedion deadpans, “so, so much. More than Lysandra at the moment.”

 

“Speaking of Lysandra,” Kyllian grins, “when are the three of us going to get together?”

 

“In your dreams.”

 

“Oh, we do, but real life would be so much more satisfying.”

 

“Maybe when you cease to be such a shameless flirt,” Aedion rolls his eyes, opening the door to his room. “You and Lysandra are just as bad as each other.”

 

“And by bad I’ll assume you mean fantastic, seeing as how that’s what we both are,” Kyllian smirks, leaning against his doorframe. “You going out tonight?”

 

“No, I’m staying in,” Aedion collapses onto the edge of his bed. “For some reason I’m more tired than usual.”

 

“Good,” Kyllian stands straight, ready to move away. “You look like shit.”

 

“I remember you being a lot nicer when I was younger.”

 

“I just give what I get.”

 

“You wish,” Aedion rolls his eyes. “Now get out of here before Lysandra comes around and you two get started again. I don’t need you telling her anymore stories about my epic failures.”

 

“Hey, I say nice stuff too,” Kyllian grins, turning around. “Night, Aedion!”

 

“Night.”

 

~~~

 

“Aedion,” Lysandra keeps her eyes screwed shut against the morning sun. “Aedion, close the curtains.”

 

Receiving no reply, she buries her head further into the pillow, burrowing under the soft covers. She movies her leg as she shifts positions, feeling nothing but smooth, silky fabric and a brush of fur as-

 

Fur.

 

Eyes opening, Lysandra whips around, and stares.

 

~~~

 

“Gavriel!”

 

The Lion barely hesitated at the cry of Lysandra’s voice, flinging his bedroom door open with a weapon ready in hand and more than prepared to defend and help her if necessary. 

 

“It’s Aedion,” she gasps, her night gown slipping off one shoulder and hair wild.

 

“What’s happened?” Gavriel scans her for injuries.

 

“He shifted,” Lysandra breathes, green eyes bright with panic. “Into an animal form.”

 

Gavriel drops his sword.

 

~~~

_Wolf_

~~~

 

Gavriel stares at the small white and grey wolf curled up on the bed, it’s snout tucked under one paw. At least they were right about Aedion’s animal form being young the first time he shifts. He’s definitely a wolf pup.

A wolf pup. One that’s curled into a ball with his tail wrapped around him as he sleeps, unaware of his new form.

 

Of course, world pups aren’t by any stretch small, not as small as lion cubs which stay smaller younger. No, Aedion’s wolf form is only slightly smaller then Fleetfoot. Even if he’s less then half of Fenrys’ size when the male shifts.

 

Or used to shift, at least.

 

Gavriel slowly backs out of the room with Lysandra, where they both wait in silence for a moment before talking.

 

“So,” Lysandra starts slowly, her eyes sliding to Gavriel, “Do we wake him?”

 

The Lion hesitates. “It makes sense that he would shift while sleeping, seeing as how that’s when his mind and body would relax enough to drop he subconscious fear.”

 

“Right,” Lysandra nods. “Of course. But what do we do _now?_ ”

 

Gavriel has an answer, he really did, but the sudden sound of growling and scrambling draws his attention. He and Lysandra open the door, the shifter holding back a laugh at the young wolf that’s biting at the blankets it’s tangled in. Gavriel himself simply walks over and calmly removes the blankets. 

 

Dropping to the floor, Aedion rises to his new four feet, shaking his head.

 

And he blinks at them with his Ashryver eyes.

 

“I’m telling Aelin!” Lysandra blurts.

 

It takes five minutes. Five minutes for Aelin, Rowan, Fenrys and Vaughan to all gather in Aedion and Lysandra’s room. If only Elide and Lorcan were present. Aedion knows that his kind cousin would never laugh at such a thing.

 

Unlike his devil cousin, who has literally collapsed to her knees, wheezing in glee.

 

“You actually shifted,” Aelin gasps, staring at her cousin. “But into a wolf pup.”

 

“We knew his new form would be young,” Vaughan coughs, suspiciously turning away with a hand over his mouth.

 

Rowan, the bastard, right out bellows. 

 

At least Lysandra and Gavriel are acting appropriately and taking the situation seriously.

 

“Did you mean to shift?” Lysandra asks seriously, sitting on the floor next to him.

 

The only way he can answer ‘no’ is by shaking his head. Understanding, Lysandra nods, standing once again.

 

“Can you shift back?” Gavriel asks, still crouched down to his level.

 

Aedion’s look says enough.

 

“I think I need to lie down,” Aelin wheezes, one hand grasping Rowan’s arm.

 

Annoyed, Aedion growls and barks. She just starts laughing once again.

 

Yet Fenrys, for some reason, has stopped laughing at Aedion, and is examining him as if he can clearly see the rising panic. The way the inability to speak, to move properly, to be _human_ is starting to breed fear inside of Aedion.

 

“You won’t be in this form forever,” Fenrys stares at Aedion.

 

Jerking, Aedion examines him. An answer to the question he said out loud, yet was so sure no one could understand.

 

“Really, you won’t,” Fenrys’ brows draw together in concern. 

 

“You can understand him?” Lysandra asks, turning to the fae.

 

“He’s a wolf,” Fenrys grins. “Of course I can understand him.”

 

Aedion whines low in his throat.

 

“Just try imagining your human form,” Fenrys kneels down, tapping his fingers on the ground. “Focus on the feeling in the middle of your core, and try to pull that forward.”

 

They watch as Aedion closes his eyes, waiting for a minute, then two, then three…

 

Only for Aedion to whine again.

 

“Yeah,” Fenrys stands. “He has no idea how to shift.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel remains steady, arms crossed, yet there’s a small edge of panic to his voice. “So what do we do now?”

 

There’s chatter, talk, people turning to each other for ideas. Yet Fenrys just keeps looking at Aedion, who tilts his head with a small, inquisitive sound. Fenrys tilts his head back, dark eyes somehow shadowed.

 

Gavriel catches the look. “Fenrys. Fenrys, you don’t have to-“

 

But there’s a flash. 

 

And suddenly, Aedion is looking up at the giant white wolf looking down at him.

 

~~~

“Try to shift back,” Fenrys says, for the umpteenth time in the last hour.

 

Aedion, still shocked by how clear communication is as wolves when over half of it is body movement, growls. “I’ve tried everything you’ve said.”

 

“Right,” Fenrys rests his head on his front two paws, before perking back up again. “Come on.”

 

“Where are we going?” Aedion slinks after him, watching the hallways. “Is it back to Kyllian? He already made himself sick from laughing, and I’m pretty sure he and Aelin are swapping jokes right now.”

 

“No, to the gardens. There’s no point being a wolf if you can’t enjoy it or just spend the entire time in your room.”

 

Aedion follows him down the hall and stairwells, glad that little people are around to notice them go. Either way, Fenrys sticks close to his side, his large form nearly blocking Aedion completely.

 

Being inside the room was one thing.

 

Being outside is another. 

 

It’s brighter, louder, as if everything has been put into clear focus. The smells and sights and sounds are all clearer. And when Fenrys bolts, running down the garden path and into the bush, Aedion has no choice but to follow him.

Maybe his smaller form isn’t as fast as a grown wolves would be, but it’s still _exhilarating_. Exhilarating to run while being so aware of every single little thing around him. 

Like Gavriel quietly trailing them in his lion form. His father’s scent and sounds are so much clearer as he creeps through the greenery, keeping a distance yet watching.

 

“Don’t mind him,” Fenrys nudges Aedion’s shoulder with his nose, nearly tipping the smaller wolf over. “He’s just worried.”

 

“That?”

 

“That your magic might build up until you explode.”

 

Aedion would have heard his father pause a step if he didn’t whip around to stare at Fenrys. “That could happen?”

 

“No. Well, it’s unlikely with the fact that your fae side seems more focused on physical attributes instead of magical.”

 

“Perfect,” Aedion growls, stalking ahead to smell at the plants. 

 

“I am kidding though, you should be fine,” Fenrys follows after him, gently nudging him towards one of the gardens many fountains. “Drink. I figured that you probably just need to exercise your wolf form a bit. No better way than exploring.”

 

Aedion swears he hears his father huff. 

 

“Right,” Aedion looks around the garden, taking it in from a new perspective. “So what now?”

 

“Bored already?” Fenrys walks off, Aedion following. “I thought a race would be fun.”

 

“A-“

 

Before Aedion can finish, Fenrys fires off without a moments hesitation. Quick to move, Aedion follows, his thoughts blanking out of his head as his instincts take over. They push him to run, to jump, to weave between the plants and hedges to catch the white bolt that is Fenrys. He watches as the older wolf leaps over the fountain and picks up speed himself, launching over the lip-

 

And having something grab him by the scruff right before he lands in the water. 

 

Fenrys walks back over as Gavriel sets Aedion on his feet, careful of his teeth against his son’s fur. Or drops him with the way Aedion twists in his grip.

 

“You were going to fall in,” Fenrys says, his amusement evident in his wagging tail and energetic movements. “Jump onto the ledge then propel yourself from that next time until you learn to jump further.”

 

“Maybe you should do some training,” Gavriel says one he shifts so he may be understood by the two wolves. “You should learn how to manoeuvre in this form.”

 

“There’s plenty of time for that later,” Fenrys nudges Aedion away. “Come on, I’ll show you how to climb things best. Like trees.”

 

“Maybe I should come,” Gavriel says worriedly.

 

“If we need you we’ll call you!” Fenrys whines behind him, more than aware the fae can’t understand him, yet positive he’ll understand the tone.

 

~~~

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have left Gavriel like that,” Aedion worries as he places his two front paws on a tree, looking up at the branches then back to Fenrys. 

 

“He’s fine,” Fenrys assures him. “Besides, he has no idea how wolves work. Yeah we don’t jump as far as lions, but our initial stamina in running is greater.”

 

“Why are you teaching me all of this?” Aedion asks, stepping back from the tree.

 

“Because you’re my friends son,” Fenrys explains as he examines the tree himself. “And if I have to shift for any reason I’d rather it be to teach you about being a wolf. If you get the hang of it then I can show you how to hunt, but Gavriel will definitely come along for that. Now come on, this seems like a good tree.”

 

Creeping back, Aedion sinks low to the ground. He examines the tree, then takes off. He scrambles wildly for purchase, using his back legs to push himself up as his claws sink into the soft flesh of the trunk. He manages to reach the first branch, dropping himself over it as his front paws desperately scramble to hold on. He wraps his jaws around a twig, holding on to that with his front paws hooking over the branch as his lower body hangs, swaying thanks to the momentum.

 

“Alright,” strain is evident in Fenrys’ voice. “That... that was a good first try. Are you alright?”

 

“Yes.”

 

It’s good that wolves communicate so much with body language, otherwise Aedion wouldn’t be able to talk around the twig in his mouth.

Although, it’s not like he has much space to move either. 

 

“Alright, don’t worry,” Fenrys shifts back into his human form, his held out arms a clear sign of his apprehension. “Just try to get purchase with your back legs.”

 

Aedion tried to do as he says, curling his body up to fix his back legs on the branch. As soon as he does so he slowly pushes himself up until he’s sitting comfortable in the fork of the tree.

 

“Thank gods,” Fenrys sags, running a hand through his hair. “Your father would kill me if you dropped from that height.”

 

“Yes, I would!” Gavriel walks forward in his human form, staring up at Aedion in the tree. 

 

“Where did you come from?” Fenrys blinks at Gavriel. “I mean, I knew you’d be worried, but following us? Again?”

 

“He’s stuck in a tree!”

 

“He’s fine!”

 

“What if he fell and hit his head on one of the rocks?”

 

“He hasn’t! Just _trust me_ on this, Gavriel. I know how wolves work.”

 

“I know you do. I’m sorry, I just-“

 

Aedion tunes them out, testing the strength of a tree branch before carefully walking across it, wobbling a few times before finding balance. He travels the length of it, pausing tentatively at the end before lithely jumping onto the next tree. He works his way from branch to branch as the two fae argue behind him until he’s behind his father.

 

There’s no way Fenrys can’t see him, yet the male simply argues louder, causing Gavriel to shake his head and rub at his face. Almost like a distraction.

Aedion sees the opening the fae has given him, and bunches his haunches.

 

He pounces down from the branch, landing on his father’s back, the claws on his front paws digging into the leather of his vest on the shoulders so he can hang on.

 

Gavriel doesn’t move an inch.

 

“Nice try,” Gavriel says dryly, turning his head slightly to smile at Aedion, eyes alight with indescribable joy. “You’ll have to be more quiet on the branches if you want to surprise me.”

 

“Good try, boyo,” Fenrys grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you get him next time.” 

 

Gavriel reaches around, grabbing Aedion and dropping him to his feat, who shakes to settle his fur back in place.

 

“It’s nearly time for dinner,” Gavriel kneels to run a rough, scared hand over Aedion’s head, smoothing over the fur with surprising softness. “Don’t worry, we’re all eating in a private room.”

 

Aedion lifts a paw to scratch at his face, surprised by the pat, ears flicking as he stares up at his father.

 

“Come on, boyo,” Fenrys says, strolling past Gavriel. “Time to face the music as an adorable little puppy.”

 

Aedion may ‘accidentally’ trip him into a bush.

 

~~~

 

“What’s wrong? Can’t reach your food?” Fenrys asks, holding the plate above a growling Aedion’s head.

 

“Fenrys!” Gavriel snaps, snatching the plate from the blondes hands.

 

“He tripped me into a bush!” Fenrys scowls. “If I did that to any of you while in wolf form you’d all kill me.”

 

“Was it on purpose?” Gavriel asks Aedion, who sits in his wolf form on a chair, head resting on the table.

 

Aedion whines low, staring up at his father. He blinks a few times for extra measure. The Lion examines him, his face strangely blank as he takes in Aedion, who reaches forward to give his father’s hand, the one on the table, a tiny lick. 

 

Gavriel places the plate back in front of his son.

 

“He has you all fooled!”

 

“You had no problem joining in with that foolery an hour ago,” Rowan points out as he eats his own meal.

 

Aedion grunts in agreement, chewing on a chicken leg, holding it down with one paw as he gnaws. Lysandra watches in her snow leopard form, chewing her own meat. She chose to do so as to not make Aedion feel excluded, even if communication between them in different animal forms is a little rough.

 

“Two animals eating at the table, wonderful,” Aelin rolls her eyes.

 

Rowan gives a pointed look towards Fleetfoot, who eats from Aelin’s hand.

 

“Don’t you dare judge our first child,” Aelin scowls, wrapping her arms around Fleetfoot’s neck, who stares up at the queen adoringly as she pants.

 

Grumbling, Rowan goes back to picking at his food.

 

It’s bad enough that Fleetfoot’s been treating Aedion like her own pup since he shifted. Even now she trots towards his chair to nose and sniff at him, whining as she does so. Aedion presses himself against the back of the chair, knowing there’s no escape. 

 

“Why don’t you play with her?” Aelin suggests.

 

Aedion’s dry look says it all. 

 

“Fine,” Aelin scowls. “I guess that means you don’t want to play fetch either, huh?”

 

A growl joins the look.

 

~~~

 

The staircases never seemed so large until Aedion had to bound up them with four legs. It’s difficult to place each leg in the right place, occasionally underestimating whether or not a paw is too close to a ledge. He nearly reaches the top, scrambling upwards, until he rips back and-

And Vaughan grabs him, two hands around his middle, and sets him on the ground.

 

“Please be careful,” the usually stoic fae mutters, looking at Aedion with concern. “Gavriel would be crushed if anything happened to you.”

 

With that he walks off, leaving Aedion to stare after him. He’s never talked much to the most silent member of the cadre, Vaughan preferring to either keep to himself or the mountains. But suddenly the reason every path is clear, the way there’s never a person in his path, becomes clear. 

Silent aid is better than none, after all.

 

~~~

 

Lysandra growls lowly as she jumps onto the bed, pacing around before settling down. Apparently, if Aedion has to sleep in an animal form then she’s more than willing to join him. According to her logic it’ll be more comfortable to deal with the fur if she has a coat herself. It doesn’t hurt that she can curl her snow leopard body around his smaller wolf one anyway. 

 

“Thank you,” Aedion nuzzles her neck.

 

Purring, she rubs her muzzle against him, as she first did on the ship and many other occasions. They settle down to sleep, content.

 

~~~

 

Blinking his eyes open, Aedion groans at the ache that lines his body and head. It settles deep in his bones in such a way that only occurs after long hours of training. 

Yet somehow he feels refreshed, lighter, as if some coiled muscle inside of him he didn’t know was there has been released. Head foggy, he tries to remember the events of the past day, everything feeling as though he had been drunk, memories arriving in small pieces. He shifts slightly, starting to focus on the room and his position. It’s almost as if every muscle has been stretched and knotted then cooled, causing it to be fixed into place. He shifts slightly, starting to focus on the room and his position.

His position where he’s being spooned by a ghost leopard while in his human form.

 

Well.

 

A few years ago he would have screamed and assumed death, so, really, this is an improvement. Even if he may have to seriously consider his strange new attraction to Lysandra while she’s wearing deadly forms.

 

He recognises the rumble against his back, the giant paws hanging over his side. He doesn’t bother turning around, simply closing his eyes once again, glad for the fur battling against the every present chill in the air.

 

He recognises the rumble against his back, the giant paws hanging over his side. He doesn’t bother turning around, simply closing his eyes once again, glad for the fur battling against the every present chill in the air.

It lasts a little longer even when Lysandra shifts back into her human form, her own skin now pressing against his as she kisses his shoulder.

 

“Aedion?” She whispers in his ear.

 

Smiling, he turns his head. “Yes?”

 

“Next time you turn into a wolf cub, I’m pretty sure Fleetfoot called dibs on playing with you.”

 

“…wait, _what?”_

 

 

 

~~~

_Lion_

~~~

 

Gavriel stares at the small golden lion cub curled up on the bed in a small ball, obviously trying to huddle for warmth. At least they were right about Aedion’s animal form being young the first time he shifts. He’s definitely a lion cub.

One that’s curled into a soft, golden ball as he sleeps, unaware of his new form.

 

Of course he’s small. All lion cubs are small, and they knew Aedion’s animal form would be young should he ever shift. But this, a small cub that opens his mouth to yawn and lick at his mouth before settling again, is too far from the norm. Especially once Aedion does the animalistic act of rubbing his head in the sheets and rolling around to get comfy.

 

Gavriel slowly backs out of the room with Lysandra, where they both wait in silence for a moment before talking.

 

“So,” Lysandra starts slowly, her eyes sliding to Gavriel, “Do we wake him?”

 

The Lion hesitates. “It makes sense that he would shift while sleeping, seeing as how that’s when his mind and body would relax enough to drop he subconscious fear.”

 

“Right,” Lysandra nods. “Of course. But what do we do _now?_ ”

 

Gavriel has an answer, he really did, but the sudden sound of growling and scrambling draws his attention. He and Lysandra open the door, the shifter holding back a laugh at the young lion that’s biting at the blankets he’s tangled in. Gavriel himself simply walks over and calmly removes the blankets. 

 

Dropping to the floor, Aedion rises to his new four feet, shaking his head.

 

And he blinks at them with his Ashryver eyes.

 

“I’m telling Aelin!” Lysandra blurts.

 

It takes five minutes. Five minutes for Aelin, Rowan, Fenrys and Vaughan to all gather in Aedion and Lysandra’s room. If only Elide and Lorcan were present. Aedion knows that his kind cousin would never laugh at such a thing.

 

Unlike his devil cousin, who has literally collapsed to her knees, wheezing in glee.

 

“You actually shifted,” Aelin gasps, staring at her cousin. “But into a lion’s cub. A _literal, fucking lion’s cub_. You look so soft and fluffy.”

 

“We knew his new form would be young,” Vaughan coughs, suspiciously turning away with a hand over his mouth.

 

Rowan, the bastard, right out bellows.

 

At least Lysandra and Gavriel are acting appropriately and taking the situation seriously.

 

“Did you mean to shift?” Lysandra asks seriously, sitting on the floor next to him.

 

The only way he can answer ‘no’ is by shaking his head. Understanding, Lysandra nods, standing once again.

 

“Can you shift back?” Gavriel asks, still crouched down to his level.

 

Aedion’s look says enough. It doesn’t matter if Gavriel can understand him while he’s in a lion form, the expression says it all.

 

“I think I need to lie down,” Aelin wheezes, one hand grasping Rowan’s arm.

 

Annoyed, Aedion gives a small growl then roar. She just starts laughing once again, Gavriel himself having to fight the smile at the small imitation of his own roar.

Yet Gavriel can clearly see the rising panic in his son, form the way his tail flickers to the way his eyes dart. The way the inability to speak, to move properly, to be _human_ is starting to breed fear inside of Aedion. 

 

“Aedion, you’re alright,” Gavriel soothes, kneeling down, lifting one hand out to his son. “You won’t be stuck like this forever.”

 

Jerking, Aedion examines him, growling low in his throat.

 

“No, this isn’t some kind of trick.”

 

“You can understand him?” Lysandra asks, turning to Gavriel.

 

“He’s a lion now,” Fenrys grins, hands tucked behind his head. “Of course Gavriel can. We can all understand fae who turn into the same animal as us.”

 

Aedion whines low in his throat.

 

“Just picture your human form,” Gavriel suggests, keeping his voice at a soothing tone. “try to bring that image forwards in your mind.”

 

They watch as Aedion closes his eyes, waiting for a minute, then two, then three…

 

Only for Aedion to whine again.

 

“Yeah,” Fenrys sits on the bed, grinning in amusement at Gavriel’s defeated slump. “He has no idea how to shift.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel remains steady, arms crossed, yet there’s a small edge of panic to his voice. “Of course he doesn’t. We may just have to wait until his body is ready to shift back.”

  
“And risk someone stepping on him?” Aelin reaches out to her cousin, only to jerk her hand back as he nips at her. “Gods, fine, I won’t pick you up. But he is smaller now, and much easier of a target-“

 

But there’s a flash cutting off her words.  

 

And suddenly, Aedion is looking up at the powerful, gold lion looking down at him.

 

“Let’s go outside,” Gavriel suggests right away, climbing to his massive paws, his voice more of a deeper growl in his lion form. “To the gardens so you can learn about your new form.”

 

Aedion slinks after him, watching the hallways. “Is that a good idea?”

 

“I’d feel better if you had at least some idea of how to defend yourself in this form.” 

 

Aedion follows him down the hall and stairwells, glad that little people are around to notice them go. Gavriel sticks close to his son’s side, taking slow strides so that he won’t fall behind.

The stairs, however, come to be an issue with how short lion cub legs can be. 

 

“Damn it,” Aedion sniffs the edge of the top step, inching forward. “Why are lion cubs so small?”

 

“After their first year they grow faster,” Gavriel says absentmindedly, ears flicking as he looks out the window for a moment. “Although since you’re fae your form probably won’t stay this small for so- Aedion!”

 

With both his front paws slipping off the step Aedion goes rolling down the stairs, flopping of the first five before clawing for purchase. He lays across the step, chest heaving at felt like a long fall in such a form.

 

“Gods,” Gavriel slinks down the stairs, his massive form moving to lift Aedion by the scruff with his mouth, a low growl showing his concern.

 

Hanging limply from his father’s mouth, Aedion allows Gavriel to carry him down the rest of the stairs, shaking his body once he’s finally back on his own feet. It’s strange to be in a form so small, with such a soft coat that has enough excess for him to be lifted in such a way. 

His fur isn’t the same golden sheen as his father’s, instead a lighter colour with darker patterns of spots over him. 

 

“Please be careful,” Gavriel whines lowly, nudging Aedion towards the door. 

 

Being inside the room was one thing.

 

Being outside is another. 

 

It’s brighter, louder, as if everything has been put into clear focus. The smells and sights and sounds are all clearer. Grass feels amazing as Gavriel leads him to a secluded corner in the garden, Aedion sniffing at the flowers and greenery as they go along.

 

“Your senses will be sharper,” Gavriel settles down, watching Aedion search the small space. “You’ll be able to see, hear, taste, feel and smell on a new range.”

 

“Alright,” Aedion sits be his father, ignoring the fact that he comes up to the lion’s shoulder while they’re both sitting. “What first?”

 

“I’ll go into the garden,” Gavriel stands, shaking his coat, “and when I roar you’ll have to come find me.”

 

“Is that to learn how to hunt?” Aedion scratches at an ear. “Wouldn’t it be better to do that with actual prey?”

 

“At the moment a very dedicated pigeon could peck your eyes out if it wanted to. Now, wait here. And if anything happens then don’t hesitate to roar.”

 

“Right.”

 

Gavriel dives into the greenery, golden coat sliding over his muscles and shinning in the morning sun. As Aedion waits, he creeps under hedges, poking at the small insects that are much easier to notice, rolling onto his back to look up at the leaves above his head. 

Finally, a large roar pierces through the calmness of the day, causing Aedion to roll out from under the bush and prick his ears.

 

It sounded far away, the roar reaching across a distance, echoing through the garden. Aedion can hear everything in the gardens, including the humans, pause for a brief moment at the powerful declaration before continuing again. 

 

Aedion shoots off in the direction the sound came from, pausing occasionally to crawl under hedges and search for the direction of the sound. Gavriel releases a second roar, drawing Aedion closer to the centre of the garden. He finally peers at his father from where he crouches behind a bush, before leaping forward and taking his shoulder, biting at it as his instincts demand.

 

Gavriel gives a low roar at the contact, collapsing dramatically to the side as Aedion crawls over him and sniffs at him, proud of his attack.

 

“What the fuck is happening?” Aelin murmurs from where she watches from a window with Rowan. “What am I looking at?”

 

“Some lions pretend to be hurt by the attacks of their young to encourage them.”

 

“That’s adorable.”

 

“Don’t tell Aedion that.”

 

Gavriel rolls to lay properly on his stomach, Aedion tumbling off his side, still nipping at him as Gavriel takes him once again by the scruff to drag Aedion around to face him. The younger mountain lion allowed his father to do so before twisting out of his grip.

 

“That was good,” Gavriel nudges a leaf off Aedion’s back, licking at the spot tentatively, barely thinking anything of it as his instincts cause the action.

 

“Why don’t you have a mane?” Aedion asks, not fully concentrating as he twists his neck around to try to see the spot his father nudged.

 

“Because I’m a mountain lion,” Gavriel nudges Aedion with his paw, playfully pushing him onto his back, keeping his son down with a paw against his fuzzy stomach. “So are you; we don’t have manes.”

 

“What can we do then?” Aedion squirms out from under his father’s paw, rolling upright once again. 

“We- why are you covered in dirt?”

 

“I was rolling around under a bush.”

 

“Why were you-“

 

“I’m excited, let me have this. It’s my first day off in a month and I had a shitty childhood.”

 

“I- alright, we can talk about that later,” Gavriel huffs, lowering his head to rest on his two front paws. “We can leap up to four meters and as far as twelve meters.”

 

“Do mountain lions travel in packs?” Aedion finally asks, his tail twitching in the air behind him.

 

Gavriel considers for a moment. “They have prides. Not as large as other kinds of lion’s tend to have; mountain lion’s stick to closer family members. Please just remember that we aren’t actual lions, but rather that we’re fae that have shifted. Personality wise we’re not like them; at most our physical attributes in these forms match there’s.”

 

“I know,” Aedion responds dryly. “So would I be able to jump over the fountain there?”

 

“ _Do not jump over the fountain you are only a cub_ ,” Gavriel stresses the point, sagging with a sigh. “You can’t jump that far yet. You’re small, Aedion.”

 

“What can I do?” 

 

“Eat, rest, learn how to hunt and grow.”

 

“And tracking down you from a roar is learning how to hunt?” If Aedion could raise his brow, he would. 

 

“Yes,” Gavriel settles down once again. “You’re young in this form. Be glad, most baby mountain lions are blind, but you seem to be just above that age.”

 

“Why isn’t my coat like yours?” Aedion swipes absently at his tail.

 

“Camouflage,” Gavriel explains. “As young cubs get older their blue eyes turn tawny, and they loose the spots on their coats which become more golden.”

 

“Will my eyes change?”

 

The question is quiet. Quiet, because of what it would signify losing. To lose the Ashryver eyes would be losing one of Aedion’s greatest connections to his mother, to Aelin, to his family across the sea. It would mean the landless prince losing the greatest sign he has that he belongs in the royal house at all.

 

“No,” Gavriel gently nudges Aedion with his muzzle, licking at dirt just below his ear. “I was born with the tawny eyes that all mountain lion’s have. You can usually tell if an animal is fae or not by looking at the eyes; the eyes never change, no matter what form is taken. It just so happens that mountain lion cubs are born with blue eyes that turn gold, so people are more likely to mistake you for an actual cub. Once your form ages and your eyes stay the same it’ll be apparent that you’re fae.”

 

Aedion can’t help but think back to Lysandra, to her green eyes that stay with every form she takes unless the shifter puts conscious thought into changing them. It makes sense, in a way, with the saying that eyes are the window to the soul.

 

At least he won’t lose on of his only connections left to his mother. 

 

Shaking off the somber feeling, Aedion instead chooses to focus on the long grass surrounding them, rolling in a long patch for a moment to rub the dirt off his fur. From where he lays Gavriel watches, amused, happy enough to rest in the sun. Once done, Aedion pads over to his father, surprising Gavriel by laying against his side and closing his eyes, he too enjoying the warmth of the sun. 

 

A few hours later, after they both wake, Gavriel opens his maw to yawn, Aedion copying the motion, only considerably less terrifying as he does so. Hearing his son’s stomach growl, along with his own, gavriel realises for the first time how little they’ve both eaten. 

 

“We need to eat in these forms,” Gavriel heaves to his feet, lowering his head to nudge Aedion towards the exit. “Dinner will start soon, and your body will need more food to compensate for shifting.”

 

Growling slightly, Aedion walks back to the gardens exits, Gavriel prowling by his side.

 

~~~

 

Aedion screeches, growls and yips as he twists in Gavriel’s hands, his father holding him around the middle with his bottom half hanging. Gavriel holds Aedion away from his body as his son tries to rotate his head to bite at Gavriel’s hands, mouth opening wide and closing again and again as he makes sounds of protest.

 

“I’m sorry, but it would take forever if you tried to climb up the stairs!” Gavriel winces as Aedion’s little paws bat at his hands, his claws not long enough yet to do any real damage. “Language! I had to shift back to carry you!”

 

When they finally reach the top Gavriel places Aedion down, watching his son as he shoots down the hall and into the dining room. He hears everyone speak from the other side of it, exclamations and laughs. Sighing, but shaking his head fondly, Gavriel stands and brushes off his clothes. Vaughan passes him on the stairs, nodding in acknowledgement. 

 

“Thank you for your help.”

 

Pausing, Vaughan turns around to look at him, before turning back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Raising his brow, Gavriel decides to make no comment on the fact that the halls have been suspiciously empty, both of people and dangerous items. Only that when Gavriel walks through them later he finds that everything has been placed back, only the routes he takes with Aedion being cleared. 

Almost as if someone has been keeping an eye out and removing all threats. 

 

“Right,” Gavriel represses a smile, following him into the dinning room. “Of course.”

 

And walks right in on his son standing on a chair, growling up at a Fenrys, who holds Aedion’s plate above his head. 

 

“What’s wrong? Can’t reach your food?” Fenrys asks, holding the plate above a growling Aedion’s head.

 

“Fenrys!” Gavriel snaps, snatching the plate from the blondes hands.

 

“He tripped me when he ran in!” Fenrys scowls. “If I did that by accident while in wolf form you’d all kill me.”

 

“Was it on purpose?” Gavriel asks Aedion, who sits comfortable on the chair, head resting on the table.

 

Aedion whines low, staring up at his father. He blinks a few times for extra measure. The Lion examines him, his face strangely blank as he takes in Aedion, who reaches forward to give his father’s hand, the one on the table, a tiny lick, nibbling slightly and pawing at the hand. Gavriel feels his heart stutter to a stop as the small lion cub does so, all the while glancing up at his father and mewing.

 

Gavriel places the plate back in front of his son.

 

“He has you all fooled!”

 

“You never have a problem with tomfoolery,” Rowan points out as he eats his own meal.

 

Aedion grunts in agreement, chewing on a chicken leg, holding it down with one paw as he gnaws. Lysandra watches in her snow leopard form, chewing her own meat. She chose to do so as to not make Aedion feel excluded, communication rough but possible thanks to the both of them having cat based forms.

 

“Two animals eating at the table, wonderful,” Aelin rolls her eyes.

 

Rowan gives a pointed look towards Fleetfoot, who eats from Aelin’s hand.

 

“Don’t you dare judge our first child,” Aelin scowls, wrapping her arms around Fleetfoot’s neck, who stares up at the queen adoringly as she pants.

 

Grumbling, Rowan goes back to picking at his food. 

 

Out of curiosity, Fleetfoot trots towards Aedion’s chair to nose and sniff at him, whining as she does so. Aedion presses himself against the back of the chair, knowing there’s no escape. 

 

“Why don’t you play with her?” Aelin suggests.

 

Aedion’s dry look says it all. 

 

“Fine,” Aelin scowls. “I guess that means you don’t want to play fetch either, huh?”

 

A growl joins the look, followed by a small screech as Fleetfoot jumps up, placing her two front paws on the chair to stand, only for it to topple over. Lysandra hisses out of shock, jumping back from the table. Aedion rolls on the floor before clambering to his feet, eyes closed as his shakes his head. Gavriel immediately reaches down, picking his son off the floor and holding Aedion in his lap as Fleetfoot continues to sniff at him, Aedion pushing back against his father to edge away from the quivering nose.

 

“Oh, she won’t hurt him,” Aelin scowls, going over to ruffle Fleetfoot’s coat. “She just wants to play!”

 

“She’ll maul him!” Rowan argues. “Look at how small he is!”

 

Aedion hisses at the older fae, swiping at the air. 

 

“Really?” Aelin gives him an unimpressed look. “Don’t pretend you don’t love her.”

 

“…I didn’t say _that_ …”

 

Aedion growls lowly, his head resting on Gavriel’s leg as he eyes Fleetfoot. Absently, Gavriel runs his hand over Aedion’s head, his large palm engulfing it as he runs his thump up his nose and strokes his hears back, repeating the gesture. Immediately, Aedion stops growling and goes limp.

 

Lysandra, in her ghost leopard form, stares and leans forward to shift at Aedion’s face, nudging at it to encourage his eyes to open.

 

“He’s probably exhausted,” Gavriel shrugs at everyone’s bewildered looks. “Lion sleep for a majority of the day, and he used a lot of magic to shift into this form,” turning to Lysandra, he holds his son out. “Could you take his back to your room?”

 

Without answering, the shifter opens her mouth and scoops Aedion up in it, a few people in the room wincing at how small the lion cub appears in the fanged mouth of the fully grown ghost leopard. 

 

“She’s never going to let him live this down,” Aelin comments as she watches them go.

 

“Gods, no.”

 

“No way.”

 

“I sure as hell aren’t.”

 

“Poor boyo.”

 

~~~

 

Blinking his eyes open, Aedion groans at the ache that lines his body and head. It settles deep in his bones in such a way that only occurs after long hours of training.

It’s almost as if every muscle has been stretched and knotted then cooled, causing it to be fixed into place. Yet somehow he feels refreshed, lighter, as if some coiled muscle inside of him he didn’t know was there has been released. Head foggy, he tries to remember the events of the past day, everything feeling as though he had been drunk, memories arriving in small pieces. He shifts slightly, starting to focus on the room and his position.

His position where he’s being spooned by a ghost leopard while in his human form.

 

Well.

 

A few years ago he would have screamed and assumed death, so, really, this is an improvement. Even if he may have to seriously consider his strange new attraction to Lysandra while she’s wearing deadly forms.

 

He recognises the rumble against his back, the giant paws hanging over his side. He doesn’t bother turning around, simply closing his eyes once again, glad for the fur battling against the every present chill in the air.

It lasts a little longer even when Lysandra shifts back into her human form, her own skin now pressing against his as she kisses his shoulder.

 

“Aedion?” She whispers in his ear.

 

Smiling, he turns his head. “Yes?”

 

“Next time you turn into a cub, I get the day with you.”

 

“…wait, _what?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed! As always, feedback, requests and comments appreciated!


	12. Flip, Flicker, Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavriel reads the parenting book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and that I managed to satisfy some requests!

15.

 

It leers at Gavriel from where it rests on his desk. Last night he had once again opened its cured covered and looked upon its forbidden pages. 

Rowan, Fenrys and Lorcan would all have a field day if they knew what it was. 

 

A parenting book. To think that Gavriel has finally resorted to reading it.

 

It’s not as though there’s a problem; things have been excellent. Yet Gavriel has once again noticed a cloud hovering over his son, and needs to learn a new method of approaching the issue. 

 

Especially when Aedion has not been this withdrawn in weeks.

Especially when Kyllian has also joined his friend’s mood, not joyfully picking Aedion back up but instead joining the sorrow.

 

What the hell is he supposed to do? 

 

Groaning, Gavriel runs a hand over his face, the bed sagging underneath his weight.

 

Perhaps he’ll first go speak to Fenrys.

 

~~~

 

He expects a smile. A grin. A smirk.

 

Not to find Fenrys staring, lifeless, into one of the ponds in the garden. The White Wolf of Terrasen watched as the plump white and orange fish lazily circle each other, tails flicking as they drift under the surface.

 

Quietly, Gavriel approaches, situating himself on the bench next to Fenrys. “Are you alright?”

 

There’s a strained grin. “I’m fine, no need to worry.”

 

“Fenrys.”

 

He sees the hesitation, and pushes forward. 

 

“Fenrys,” Gavriel places his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You know that you can talk to me, right?”

 

Sagging, Fenrys blinks. The kind of blinks that he has been doing in repetitive patterns. Most of the time they’re to Aelin.

 

Some of the time they’re directed towards no one. 

 

“Fenrys,” Gavriel lowers his voice, stomach twisting, “you have a voice once more, and when you are ready to speak I will listen.”

 

He ignores the trail of liquid slowly making its way down Fenrys’ face, instead focusing on the pond. He remains there as he listens to his comrades ragged breathing, a steady force of companionship.

 

“It was my fault.”

 

Gavriel turns to look at Fenrys, a denial on the top of his tongue.

 

“I was a horrible brother.”

 

Gavriel bites his tongue as he watches his friend heave shuddering breaths, bent over and choking as he forces the words forth. Time ticks past as he waits, and is rewarded by strangled words. 

 

“I never noticed...”

 

“...I stole his glory...”

 

“...all those times he was my shadow...”

 

“...I thought he knew...”

 

“...he had no hesitation when she ordered it...”

 

“...was he really suffering that much?.”

 

“... _I never knew_...”

 

By the time the wolf is finished Gavriel wraps an arm around his shoulders, allowing him to howl and scream his grief. It shakes him, hurls him, yet only the fish flicker away. Once done, Fenrys gulps down tremendous breaths to steady his heart. 

 

“It was not your fault,” Gavriel finally speaks, “and you are not a bad brother. Look at what you did for him, Fenrys.”

 

Fenrys’ eyes spark at how he said ‘are’ instead of ‘were,’ yet he turns away. “He thought I did it to ruin him. To gain her favour and steal  it from him.”

 

“Yes,” Gavriel agrees, “but does that change the real reason why you did it?”

 

Fenrys’ eyes darken, his voice soft with fear and loss. “No.”

 

“Why did you do it?”

 

“ _To save him_ ,” Fenrys sobs, the words strangled at the end as he bows over.

 

“That’s not something a horrible brother would do,” Gavriel reasons softly, placing a hand on Fenrys’ shoulder, holding it steady as his friend sobs.

 

“You don’t understand,” Fenrys rasps. “Gavriel, Gavriel he hated me. He hated me so much that he killed himself for Meave, to prove me wrong. He hated me, he hated me for all those years and I just kept smiling but he hated me. _My brother hated me_.”

 

Releasing breath, Gavriel wraps his arm solidly around Fenrys’ shoulders, aiding in keeping the wolf upright as he lurches with his sobs. It’s rare for the Lion to feel the need to shed tears, yet liquid prickled at his own eyes.

Children are rare for fae, so incredibly rare, twins more so than anything else. It was no secret that Fenrys and Connall shared a bond, one that shone for one brother and one that died for the other. 

How long ago was it that Gavriel first started training the two? When they both swore their blood to Meave, and smiled their cocky smile, young and just Settled and ready to prove their worth before they realised how twisted and warped the queen really was? Before they discovered what they would be forced to do behind doors locked shut with the key just out of reach?

 

How often did Connall enjoy it, while not realising how much his brother was suffering? Believing Fenrys to only be betraying instead of sparring him?

 

“You feel guilty for what happened to Connall,” Gavriel reflects.

 

“Yes,” Fenrys strains out, covering his eyes, head bowed.

 

“You feel as though you failed him as a brother.”

 

His reply is a choked off sob, Fenrys gasping for breath. 

 

“But you didn’t,” Gavriel continues, keeping his voice steady and strong. “Fenrys, you have no idea how much we all respect you.”

 

“Right,” the wolf gives a choked off laugh. “Enough respect to give jokes about me and Meave behind closed doors.”

 

Something sicks lodges in Gavriel’s throat as he thinks back to the snickers the young fae would release in Doranelle. “They were bastards.”

 

“Even she laughed.”

 

It’s been a while since Gavriel’s had such an urge to release his claws and sink them into fake flesh to see black blood splatter. Before the war he would have been surprised to feel such unyielding rage towards someone he was once sworn to, yet now it comes with no surprise. As if sensing his anger, Fenrys just shakes his head and places it back in his hands as if in defeat. 

 

“No, Fenrys,” Gavriel leans down to look him in the eyes, concern shining through. “Fenrys, Fenrys you can’t believe that. I have never believed that, neither has Rowan, Lorcan or Vaughan. And I’m sure Connall never believed it.” 

 

“Right,” Fenrys spits, voice venomous. 

 

“I am not lying,” Gavriel clenches his jaw. “Do not accuse me of doing so.”

 

He can feel Fenrys’ breath stutter for a moment before straightening out. 

 

“I have known you for years,” Gavriel continues on. “From when you were thirty and swore yourself to Meave and began your training with us. From when we all went out to those mountains and Lorcan and Rowan got smashed. From when we travelled together, defended each other, and fought together. I have known many people over the last hundreds of years, Fenrys. Many people. So I know that you are a good male, and you have _always_ had my respect. Never question that.”

 

“Right,” Fenrys’ voice steadies, still shaky but devoid of sobs. “Right.”

 

They remain there for some time, both staring into the pool. Gavriel simply sits next to Fenrys as he listens to the male wipe his face and suck in choked breaths, making no comment on his actions.

 

“Are you alright?” Gavriel asks once silence ensures. 

 

“No,” Fenrys’ voice remains raw. “I don’t think I will be for some time.”

 

“If you need to talk-“

 

“I know,” Fenrys says, for the first time stating the words as if they are the truth instead of an incredulous lie. “I know. Thank you.”

 

Gavriel nods. 

 

“I think I’m just going to go eat,” Fenrys stands, brushing a hand through his hair.

 

Gavriel follows his motion. “I could join you?”

 

“No,” Fenrys sucks in a deep breath, expelling it slowly. “For the moment I think… I think I’m actually fine. To be alone, I mean.”

 

“Alright,” Gavriel squeezes his shoulder. “Never hesitate to find me.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

~~~

Tired, his limbs heavy, Gavriel treads his way down the halls of the palace. Fenrys seemed better once Gavriel left him at the dining hall, lighter in his steps and actions as he joined a group of guards at a table that he’d been associating himself with. Gavriel likes them, except for this one guard who is a little aggravating but he knows he must trust Fenrys to make his own friends and step back.

 

Even if he thinks the guard may be a bad influence. or may become too much of an annoyance or just not  good friend at all-

 

But no.

 

He needs to stop fussing.

 

He needs to.

 

He should.

 

Even if he can hear explicit cursing spewing from Aelin’s office.

 

Very explicit cursing…

 

Evangeline isn’t anywhere nearby, is she?

 

Keeping his steps light, Gavriel slowly pads his way past the open office door, ignoring his queen pacing in front of the desk with the giant window behind it. With slow, measured movements he makes his way past the opening, going unnoticed.

 

Until Aelin catches a glimpse of his foot. 

 

“Gavriel!”

 

He loves her. He really does.

 

But if she still had her fire magic she’d be leaving burning footprints in the carpet as she stomps towards him.

 

“Aelin,” Gavriel dips his head. “Good mor-“

 

“I need you to kill Darrow.”

 

“No.”

 

“You’d disobey your queen?” Aelin growls, eyeing her sword by her desk, obviously eager to take up the task herself. 

 

“No,” Gavriel shifts to block her view of the blade, “I won’t kill a man without knowing the reason why.”

 

It’s almost as if she’s inhaling in preparation to blow fire. “It’s my concern. On second thought, I can handle Darrow on my own.”

 

“You’re annoyed.”

 

Her glare is enough of an indication that the emotion leans more towards rage.

 

“When I’m annoyed,” Gavriel gestures towards the desk. “I take ten seconds to sit and breath.”

 

“I have no need for that, Gavriel,” Aelin shakes her head. “I don’t need to calm down.”

 

“But I do,” Gavriel sits in the spare chair. “I still haven’t forgiven Darrow for stripping Aedion of his title in public in the dining hall. Keep me company?”

 

Releasing a large breath, Aelin collapses down onto the chair. “He’s been stepping out of line.”

 

That Gavriel can believe. “What did you do?”

 

It’s easy to listen in full belief as Aelin goes on a long rant of all the disgraceful, unbelievable things Darrow had suggested at the earlier meeting. Words questioning Aelin’s authority, insulting the usefulness of the cadre who still have no solid employment in the court (although Gavriel knows they’re getting paid a gross amount since he’s putting it into an account for Aedion to inherit along with Gavriel’s other fortunes from Doranelle… the rest of the Cadre may not know). 

When Aelin reaches the parts where Darrow insults the Bane’s presence in Orynth Gavriel growls slightly, knowing full well that every member of the Bane, _every single damn one of them_ , deserves a chance of peace and rest. Not to be treated like wild people, like outsiders. They wouldn’t have needed to become such if the lords of Terrasen did a better job defending and arming their country instead of forcing its youth to give up their lives and fight. 

 

By the end Aelin is sagged in her seat, dragging in deep, infuriated breaths as she rubs at her face. 

 

“Do you feel better?”

 

She slowly lowers her hands from her head to look at him. “No.”

 

Gavriel’s lips twitch up at the repetition of his word and expression. “Please just don’t kill him.”

 

“The urge is strong,” Aelin smirks.

 

“Resist it.”

 

“For you, Uncle Kitty-Cat, I’ll try.”

 

“Aelin you promised,” Gavriel mourns as he leaves the office.

 

“I lied.”

 

~~~

 

Feeling marginally better, Gavriel continues on for the hunt for his son. Having run into Evangeline he had gained the information that the Wolf of the North is residing somewhere in the library. And after seeing Kyllian, who is lighter than Gavriel has seen him in days, it’s fair to say that the Lion is expecting his son to be in a better mood.

 

Not sitting at a table, hands clasped against his mouth, staring at a shelf of books as though he may set fire to it.

 

Well. Sadness has turned to rage, then. Not exactly the direction it’s supposed to go in, but Gavriel can see how Aedion would some how be able to twist the natural cycle of emotions.

Or grab it by the neck and force it towards rage. 

That’s plausible. 

 

“Hello, Aedion,” Gavriel slides into the seat across from him, blocking his view of the flammable books. 

 

“I’m not going to set the books on fire and I’m not a child you need to patronise.” 

 

“Thank the gods,” Gavriel sags back into his seat at the grin lighting Aedion’s face. “Can you at least explain to me what’s been happening these last few days?”

 

“The anniversary of Theralis was yesterday,” Aedion states easily, shrugging, as if casually mentioning a small event. 

 

Gavriel straightens, eyes widening. “Aedion.”

 

“It’s fine,” Aedion waves away his father’s clear concern. “Really, it is. Kyllian and I spent the day with the Bane yesterday and mourned.”

 

“Alright,” Gavriel blinks slowly. “So you’re fine now?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Gavriel doesn’t trust that smirk. He’s learnt by now which smiles and smirks are fake. 

 

“Why don’t we do something together?” Gavriel is unsure of where the words come from, yet agree with them wholeheartedly. “We could try camping again.”

 

“After last time?”

 

“Why not? We wouldn’t need to go far, and the weather is much fairer then it was months ago. We wouldn’t need to go far, just up to one of the nearest mountains, or into the forest even.”

 

He can see Aedion considering it. Finally, the Wolf of the North smiles, the action real and relieved. “Alright, let’s do it.”

 

“Fantastic,” Gavriel settles back. “And you can tell me how you really feel about Theralis.”

 

Aedion scowls immediately. “Just because you sweeten the deal with a camping trip doesn’t mean I’m going to talk about me feelings. Besides, I’ve grieved already.”

 

“You can’t grieve the entire week leading to an event then feel nothing the day after.”

 

“Watch me.”

 

“I’d rather not,” Gavriel raises a brow. “Aedion.”

 

“Don’t say my name like that.”

 

“Aedion.”

 

“I don’t need to talk about everything,” Aedion scowls. “After the last battle on Theralis the one ten years ago doesn’t really compare.”

 

Gavriel just keeps from wincing. Of course, of course there is now more memories linked to that scared land. Of course, it would be hard to mourn for a battle that occurred ten years ago while still suffering the pain of the last fight. 

 

Of course, Aedion will try not to speak of something so raw.

 

“The last battle was horrendous,” Gavriel agrees, tapping his finger on the table, sliding his eyes to his son. “But it was not one of your firsts.”

 

“Do you remember your first battle?” Aedion snaps back.

 

“Yes,” Gavriel settles back. “I was young. Twenty-two.”

 

He immediately regrets his words. How can he call twenty-two young when Aedion was thirteen turning fourteen? Yet his son nods in understanding, face devoid of blame or anger, so Gavriel continues.

 

“It was set in a land far from here. I was a lieutenant given my first command, my first group of men to lead,” Gavriel gives a small smile. “I was terrified.”

 

He sees interest spark in Aedion’s eyes along with a deep disbelief. “You were?”

 

“Of course,” Gavriel feels his bones settle deeply into the memory. “Utterly petrified. Fear is nothing to be ashamed of; it’s a natural emotion that we feel to protect ourselves. There are times to push through it, but also times to accept it as a part of what we are feeling, and understand the message it’s sending us.”

 

“I sense a hidden message in this story,” Aedion says dryly.

 

“There is,” Gavriel smiles. “The moral of it is that fear is something no one can avoid. And with fear can come everlasting memories. Memories that can cling on to us and haunt us. One of the worst things though is the fear that comes with confronting those memories.”

 

“So basically,” Aedion sums up, “we all feel fear and fear will cling onto us and then make us feel fear at facing fear?”

 

“I-“ Gavriel blinks slowly. “Yes? No. I haven’t explained any of that very well. What point was I making?”

 

“Careful old man,” Aedion’s lips twitch into a smirk. “Your age is showing.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel straightens, holding his hands out. “Right. The main point I want to make is that it is natural to feel emotions such as fear, and for those emotions to reoccur later in life. You can’t force them away, or try to distract yourself from them. It’s alright to allow yourself to feel those emotions, even if it may be the hardest, scariest thing to do.” 

 

Quiet, Aedion stares at Gavriel for a moment before looking down at his hands. “What if you’re too tired to keep feeling fear and sadness?”

 

“Aedion-“

 

“I’m sick of it,” the words are biting and pained. “I’m _sick_ of mourning all the time! I’m sick of spending _every second day of the year_ thinking about those who are lost as though it’ll bring them back! It’s not the anniversary anymore, so I don’t need to mourn anymore, alright?” 

 

Gavriel stares hard at his son. “No, not alright. Aedion, your stress and sadness has been appearance. It’s clear that you’ve been repressing your feelings instead of focusing on them.” 

 

“My emotions are my own,” Aedion says with a finality. “Allow me to handle them on my own.”

 

Gavriel sits forward, clasping his hands on the table. “No.”

 

“Gavriel-“

 

“Aedion,“ Gavriel cuts his son off, keeping his gaze firm. “I’ll respect your wishes, you know I always will. But you must also know that as your father I will always worry about you. So, allow me to worry about how you’ve been this last week.”

 

Aedion’s throat bobs as he swallows, his hands slowly unclenching as he pointedly looks away from Gavriel. Moving to sit next to his son, Gavriel himself doesn’t look directly at Aedion, focusing away even as a weight leans against his side and he wraps an arm around sagged shoulders.

 

“They didn’t have any armour small enough to fit me.”

 

Gavriel closes his eyes. 

 

“It’s funny. Now, most armours are too small.”

 

He can feel the silent laugh Aedion gives. 

 

“Do you know what the worst part was?”

 

Gavriel turns to looks at Aedion. 

 

“The worst part was that I actually thought it would be alright. No one lied and said it would be, but some small part of me thought that maybe it would be alright, that maybe everything was just a horrible dream. But the nightmare ended, and I didn’t wake up. I was just standing there, in armour that was too big while covered in blood, looking at men that had fallen while I somehow remained standing, and… I was just there.”

 

“I know,” Gavriel murmurs, closing his eyes. “Gods, Aedion, I know.”

 

Knows the stench of blood.

 

Knows the slickness of it on his hands.

 

Knows the disbelief that comes with the unimaginable silence that seems so unreal after the unleashing of hell. 

 

“What do I do, Gavriel?” Aedion rubs tiredly at his face. “Mourn forever?”

 

“No,” Gavriel pulls him closer. “Not at all. Allow yourself to feel, Aedion. Allow yourself to feel, and try to continue on.”

 

“It’s hard.”

 

“I know. It will never be easy, but it will be less consuming at times.”

 

“I want it all gone,” Aedion closes his own eyes, leaning more solidly against his father.

 

His father.

 

The first time he’s ever been able to say that.

 

If only he’s had this sturdy strength standing by him during Theralis. Shielding him.

 

“I know you do,” Gavriel can’t keep the mourning tone from his voice. “But I can’t promise that. I just beg of you, Aedion, to try to focus on the good memories at times.”

 

That spurs on a small smile. “Like camping?”

 

“Gods, that snow was atrocious,” Gavriel jokes, delighting in the laugh it earns him. “But yes. Like camping.”

 

“Alright,” Aedion closes his eyes once again. “Alright. I’ll try.”

 

“That’s all I ask.”

 

There’s not really much else that can be done. Not when such an overwhelming feeling can so quickly flood an entire persons being. Perfection is such an impossible, craved after thing.

 

But for now, they can focus on camping.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out to be a lot sadder then I both thought and made it out to be. Forgive me TvT.


	13. Pitch, Crack, Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedion and Gavriel run into some trouble while camping... and latter, Aedion gets grounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! First week back at school has been hectic! 
> 
> Also, Aedion turns into a lion cub in this because I didn't want write a whole second version where he turns into a wolf pup, and people seemed to like his lion cub form. So enjoy!

16.

 

“Come on, Aedion!” Gavriel shoulders his pack, standing at the palace exit as he watches Aedion search through his bag. “We won’t need much.”

 

“Says the male who brought two jackets,” Aedion smirks, standing and shouldering his bag.

 

“It snows at random here.”

 

“That’s the beauty of it.”

 

“One of these jackets is for you,” Gavriel takes in Aedion’s light clothes, then noticed a blond haired queen beckoning at him from the palace doors. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

 

He pretends not to notice the relief in Aedion’s eyes at the assurance, even as it tugs at his heart.

 

“So,” Aelin says once Gavriel nears her, arms crossed as she leans against the door. “Guess what someone left in the library?”

 

Gavriel freezes at the book in her hand.

 

“You know,” Aelin flicks through the well worn pages, “I especially love the little notes you’ve written in the margins,” her eyes flick up to Gavriel’s.

 

The Lion keeps his stance strong. He can’t flinch, he can’t show any signs of weakness if he hopes to leave this situation alive.

 

“I mean,” Aelin waves the book, “a majority of it is about Aedion, which I can understand. So imagine my surprise when I get to the notes you wrote about me in the anger and emotional expression chapter.”

 

Gavriel can feel a bead of sweat trickle down his neck.

 

“Of course,” Aelin laughs, “there’s as much about Aedion in here as me, so I thought maybe it was a one off thing, so I kept reading... and found notes and questions about _all of us._ ”

 

She levels a stare at Gavriel, slowly holding up the book. “Have you been using parenting techniques on everyone in the court?”

 

A second passes, then Gavriel snatches the book, turns around and _flees_.

 

Aedion stares at his father as he barrels towards him. “What are you-

 

“No time!” Gavriel presses his hand against the small of Aedion’s back, hurriedly pushing him forward. “Move, move, move!”

 

Eyes widening at Aelin’s annoyed growl behind him Aedion breaks into a jog with Gavriel, it quickly turning into a full out sprint.

 

“What,“ Aedion pants as Gavriel tugs him along, “did you do?!”

 

“Just keep moving, cub,” Gavriel sags in release once they’re outside the city walls and nearing the forest.

 

He can almost feel Aedion start at the word before relaxing again. “Never call me that in front of Aelin or Lysandra. They’d have a field day.”

 

Gavriel can’t help but smile slightly at the small acceptance of the nickname. Progress, at least.

 

Even if Gavriel can’t stop imagining a younger Aedion standing in the middle of a battlefield, armour too big and small hands slick with blood.

Gods. If only he’d been there....

No, he would have fallen too. As much as he hates to admit it. For Aedion to have watched his father fall as well would have been devastating.

 

But for now they can focus on getting as far away from the castle as possible.

 

“Seriously,” Aedion asks as they trek through the forest, “what did you do? Was that her book? You should know by now that stealing one of her books is equal to treason.”

 

“It was nothing important,” Gavriel brushes is off, glad he stowed the book away in his pack. “Let’s just get to the camping ground.”

 

“Right,” Aedion eyes him. “There’s a good spot I know a few hours walk away from here. It’s situated a little ways away from Orynth, just a little northward. It’s close to the mountain borders. We should be able to stay there for a few days, maybe even find a cave to sleep out in.”

 

“Good,” Gavriel sighs. “Good. As long as it doesn’t snow.”

 

Aedion stares at his father. “You know how high the chances of that happening are, right? The mountains always have snow at the top, and there’s a chance of a light dusting all year around.”

 

“Then I won’t leave the fire,” Gavriel drawls, smiling at the laugh it pulls from his son.

 

~~~

 

Gavriel stays true to his word, stretched out before the fire as Aedion hunts for their meal. Does he hold some guilt at leaving his son to find their meal? Yes.

Is he used to the colder climates of Terrasen?

No.

But the minutes trickle on, growing with Gavriel’s concern as he fails to hear Aedion’s footsteps approach the cave they found. Finally, enough is enough, and the Lion approaches the thicker of trees.

 

His walk turns into a full fae sprint once he hears Aedion’s raw of pain.

 

It’s difficult to fight down the panic, the fear, as he tracks the scent of Aedion’s blood that slices through the air like a knife. Only a few steps and he shifts into his mountain lion form, digging his claws into bark and earth to propel himself forward.

Once he finds Aedion his heart nearly stops in his chest, his son collapsed on the ground against a tree, ankle bloodied as he growls under his breath.

 

Gavriel shifts back, kneeling immediately next to Aedion and scanning him head to toe. “Are you alright? What happened? Where are you hurt?”

 

“It bit my ankle,” Aedion grits his teeth. “It isn’t deep, and may not scar, but it twisted as I fell off my feet and may be broken somewhere.”

 

“What got you?” Gavriel examines Aedion’s ankle, the bite leaking blood, the rest of the skin deeply bruised.

 

Yes, there’s a break in there somewhere. Perhaps two, with how small and delicate some of the bones can be.

 

“Ghost leopard,” Aedion swallows, skin pale. “Not Lysandra. They hate humans more than anything. This one must have wondered further down from their natural territory, probably because of all the commotion lately.”

 

Gavriel pauses, eyes deepening in thought. “What of other animals?”

 

Aedion winces, cupping his ankle with two hands, no doubt feeling for the broken bone. “Prey, they eat and kill. They leave other predators alone though, especially the lions up in the...” Aedion trails off, looking at his father. “You want to turn into a mountain lion.”

 

“And you,” Gavriel urges. “If you can somehow turn into a cub then it may believe we’re two normal mountain lions and leave us be.”

 

“I can’t do it on command,” Aedion hisses. “I’ve never been able to!”

 

Gavriel sucks in a deep breath, something like guilt settling over his face. “Close your eyes and picture your mountain lion cub form.”

 

Aedion’s eyes narrow suspiciously for a moment, yet he does as Gavriel says.

 

The Lion sucks in a deep breath, and yanks Aedion’s ankle. There’s a flash of light, and suddenly it’s a mountain lion cub growling and jumping back from Gavriel, one back leg bloodied and held off the ground. Gavriel examines his son; as predicted, his mountain lion form is ageing, his body now the size of a cats, his coat still fluffy and spotted yet sure to change soon.

 

“I’m sorry,” Gavriel holds out his hand, not flinching as Aedion nips angrily at his fingers with his small fangs. “Sometimes pain is the only way to induce these changes, and I know you don’t want to kill a ghost leopard and you definitely can’t out run one.”

 

Without another word, Gavriel shifts.

 

“We’re talking about this later,” Aedion growls lowly.

 

Without answering, Gavriel gently gathers Aedion’s scruff in his mouth, glad as his son instinctively relaxes, his body curling up slightly as his struggles cease.

After all, Gavriel has very sharp, very strong teeth and one cub with tearable skin. He needs to watch his bite.

 

With considerably less speed, Gavriel creeps back towards the cave. His giant paws slowly crush the leaves and twigs as he tries to ignore the ghost leopard slowly travelling after them. When it becomes apparent that the ghost leopard won’t turn away, when it growl lowly in its throat, Gavriel stops.

 

“Gavriel?” Aedion questions.

 

Ignoring him, Gavriel places his front paws on a tree trunk, lifting Aedion up to curl in the dip of a branch. Aedion peers over the side as Gavriel drops back onto all fours, turning towards where the ghost leopard peers at him.

 

“Gavriel!” Aedion growls, his small paws nervously hovering near the edge of crook.

 

Lowering himself, Gavriel allows a growl to rumble through his own throat, pacing forward as his tail flickers.

 

The black eyes of the ghost leopard narrow.

 

With a roar Gavriel springs forward, his claws digging into the shoulder of the beast and jaws closing around the scruff of the neck. With an unholy screech the ghost leopard falls down with him, scrambling away as soon as it manages to free itself, swiping at Aedion with black claws.

Only for them to bounce off a golden shield.

 

It creeps back as Gavriel creeps forward, its eyes flicking at the gold light shining from the lion. With one last raw Gavriel jumps towards it, the ghost leopard roaring itself before turning away and pouncing back into the under growth. It’s all Gavriel can do not to follow it, to ignore the smell of his son’s blood in its jaws.

 

“Are you alright?” Gavriel asks Aedion, looking in the crook of the tree as he stretches his body up, one paw braced on the tree trunk.

 

Two angry, narrowed eyes stare back at him.

 

“Did you first think that ghost leopard was Lysandra?”

 

Those two angry eyes flick away.

 

“Come on,” Gavriel has to swallow down his chuckle, grabbing Aedion in his jaws and slowly lowering him to the ground. “Can you walk or would you like me to carry you?”

 

He watches as Aedion tests his movement, jerkily walking forward with one back leg shaking and curled off the ground. It works for the most part, three legs easier then hopping on one. Gavriel sticks by his side, alarmed when at one point Aedion falls on his side, using his muzzle to push at his son’s side to help him rise.

 

“I’m fine,” Aedion winces, moving his back leg slightly. “Will it make my foot worse to have it in this form with different bones?”

 

Gavriel thinks for a moment, glad when the cave comes into view. “Not that I know of. Fae usually sustain their injuries no matter what forms they are in.”

 

They enter the cave and Gavriel shifts back to his fae form, kneeling on the floor as Aedion slowly turns to look at him.

 

“I still don’t know how to shift back,” Aedion growls lowly, yipping at one point, his tail flicking in annoyance.

 

Gavriel examines his son, then reaches forward. He flinches back when Aedion releases something close to the scream of a lion cub, springing back and scrambling to curls up against the wall, staring at Gavriel with frightened eyes as he guards his injured leg with his body.

 

Gavriel blinks.

 

Aedion blinks.

 

They both stare at each other.

 

“I don’t know what that was,” Aedion says slowly.

 

“Most likely your instincts trying to avoid injury,” Gavriel winces, voice low. “I’m sorry for grabbing your foot before, it was a rash decision that I regret, and I swear to you that I won’t do it again.” 

 

“Fine,” Aedion grumbles lowly, walking back towards Gavriel, who scoops him up in his wide, rough hands. “What’s the plan?”

 

Gavriel examines him. “You shift back when you go to sleep?”

 

“So far, yes.”

 

Gavriel waits for moment. “Are you tired?”

 

“No.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel blows out a breath, one thumb absentmindedly stroking Aedion’s fuzzy chest as he does so, a pleased rumble coming from the cub. “Well, there are multiple ways for fae to shift back. As I’ve said before, there’s probably some part of your mind that’s terrified to be fae thanks to the prejudice you’ve witnessed thanks to Adarlan, but it could also be a physical block. You may have to stay in this form for a while until be can find a way to-“

 

Before he can finish there’s a flash, and Aedion is blinking at him before he topples back, swearing at the pressure on his foot.

 

“I guess you just need to be soothed,” Gavriel says, half amused and half worried as he kneels by Aedion.

 

“Do not tell Aelin,” Aedion glares as he removes his shoe, hissing at the way it pulls on his ankle. “She kept trying to pet me last time.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel fights back a smile. “How’s your foot?”

 

He takes it in his hands, noticing Aedion’s since as he does so. His violent swearing as Gavriel gently rotates it, one hand cupping the heel and the other the ball of his foot, just tipping it to the side slightly, is a definite sign of something wrong. As if Aedion’s pale face isn’t enough of a suggestion, a young man who’s pain tolerance is higher than it should be for his age.

 

“Right,” Gavriel breathes out a deep breath. “There’s definitely two or three bones broken around the joint. Moving your foot at all will cause pain.

 

Aedion’s dry look suggests he knew that point already.

 

“We’ll need to take you back to Orynth to get it healed,” Gavriel muses. “We could make a splint, or you could shift again?”

 

“The only way I can shift is through some kind of emotional or physical shock,” Aedion says, then eyes Gavriel warily. “Which we are not doing.”

 

The Lion winces. “I am sorry for that, it was a rash, foolish decision.”

 

“It’s fine,” Aedion waves away the apology. “A type of splint should do, and I could use a branch as some kind of crutch.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel nods, pleased with his son’s answers. “Getting home may not be so difficult.”

 

~~~

 

Aelin stares. Rowan stares. Fenrys, Ren and Vaughan all stare. Everyone in the court, everyone standing in the throne room, stares.

 

Aedion and Gavriel, clothes torn, covered in mud, scratches, and clear marks of exhaustion stare back, Aedion leaning heavily against Gavriel, who looks as near collapsing as his son, yet somehow supports them both.

 

“You know,” Gavriel slowly turns his head to look at Rowan, voice flat, “you all need to stop saying camping is fun.”

 

“Just take me to get cake next time,” Aedion says weakly, voice muffled against his father’s shoulder.

 

The Lion simply raises a hand to pat his golden locks in comfort before dropping it again to Aedion’s shoulder to keep his son from collapsing. “We had some trouble.”

 

Aelin continues to stare. “I can see that. I- is he- is Aedion drugged?”

 

“It’s mainly from a loss of blood,” Gavriel nods down to Aedion’s bandaged leg.

 

“No,” Aedion’s muffled voice speaks up, “it’s from a lack of will. I lost my want to live after we fell in the ditch.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Rowan furrows his brows.

 

“A ghost leopard bit Aedion’s ankle and caused him to break some bones,” Gavriel explains. “I couldn’t heal them because they’re around the joint and small, so a proper healer will need to take a look. After we started heading back the ghost leopard reappeared. That was not fun. After that, we were attacked by bandits. That was also not fun. And after that,” he gives them all a flat, golden stare, “the ground crumbled from under our feet near a ledge and we fell into a muddy ditch. That, as you may all be beginning to see, was. Not. Fun.”

 

“I hate camping,” Aedion’s weak voice pitches in.

 

His father pats his shoulder.

 

“I’m taking him to the healers,” Gavriel helps Aedion limp towards the door. “And as far as I’m concerned, I still have the next four days off, even if I’m not out camping,” he turns his pained eyes back to the court. “Please, I’m begging you, don’t need me.”

 

Taking Fenrys’ thumbs-up as an affirmative, Gavriel hobbles away with Aedion.

 

“Well,” Aelin stares after them, swallowing down the urge to run after them both and check on Aedion, “I suppose that’s Gavriel’s punishment for using parenting techniques on us.”

 

“What?!”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Do I _look_ like a damn-!“

 

“So that’s why-!”

 

Aelin winces, hoping the healers reach Gavriel first.

 

~~~

 

“We’re going to need to pop a small bone back into place,” a healer explains, gesturing to a small bump above Aedion’s ankle bone. “You were right not to heal it, otherwise we would have needed to break it all over again. Putting it back in place will be painful, as well as checking the damage of the other, smaller bones, but with the sedative we’ve given him it should be fine. And thanks to his fae blood his bite wound won’t require stitches, and doesn’t appear to be infected.”

 

“Thank you,” Gavriel nods his head, Aedion lying on the bed with his foot propped up, head rested against a pillow as the sedative begins to enter his system.

 

“Of course, it’s also because of his fae blood that we had to drug him heavily,” the healer glances at Aedion as he yawns. “It takes a lot to put you down. How he managed to take being patched up in the war camps and on the battle field without sedatives I don’t know.”

 

“High pain tolerance,” Aedion murmurs drearily.

 

“Right,” the healer smiles, keeping her voice light, and turns back to Gavriel. “Do you have any injuries?”

 

“Besides exhaustion and exasperation?” Gavriel deadpans.

 

Aedion snorts.

 

“I can’t help with that,” the healer replies dryly. “We’ll just wait for him to go under before moving and checking the bones. You can stay until he does if you want.”

 

With that she turns and leaves the room, the infirmary empty except for the two of them. Sighing, Gavriel sits on the edge of the bed, the crisp white sheets crinkling, bright thanks to the sunlight pouring in from the window.

 

“I hope I don’t have any nightmares,” Aedion wonders, the words more to himself then Gavriel, a quiet mumble.

 

“I’ll be here if you do,” Gavriel says absentmindedly, barely even thinking about the words, his staying being such a plain fact to him.

 

“Thank you, Father.”

 

Gavriel freezes at the mumbled, soft words, his heart stopping with his body. He turns to stare, wide eyed at Aedion, who’s blearily eyes are looking at Gavriel through dropped lids.

 

“What?” Aedion scowls, rubbing tiredly at one eye.

 

Gavriel can’t help but beam, leaning forward to press his lips to the top of Aedion’s head and staying there. His hand gently cups the back of Aedion’s head as Gavriel inhales his son’s, his cubs, scent. He can feel his son’s shock, Aedion’s body locking tense, then slowly unwinding into Gavriel’s hold. Laughing hoarsely, shakily, Gavriel ignores the tears dribbling down his cheek, another joining. He ignores Aedion’s hitching sniffle as well, just continuing to hold his son.

 

His son.

 

His cub.

 

Who would have thought.

 

Aedion’s hands grip the edge of Gavriel’s shirt, twisting into the fabric, clinging on with the desperateness of a child. Gavriel makes no comment on it, just continuing to hold onto his son.

 

“I’m not going anywhere, Aedion,” Gavriel murmurs against Aedion’s hair, gently stroking the back of his head as he feels Aedion’s breath puff against his chest. “I’m right here, cub. I’m right here. And I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

They stay like that, Gavriel near rocking them, until Aedion’s grip on his father’s shirt loosens and his head begins to dip.

 

“Don’t leave,” Aedion demands, a weak command slipping into his drug-leaden voice.

 

“I won’t, cub.”

 

Gavriel stays by him, murmuring reassurances every time Aedion tries to force his eyes back open, fondly stroking his son’s hair away from his face as he drifts into a deep slumber. He only moves to sit on the other bed when the healer asks him to, holding back a wince and a growl as Aedion’s bone is audibly snapped back into place.

He’ll stay. He’ll stay until he’s pried away and will always fight to stand by his son’s side.

 

~~~

 

“Dammit,” Fenrys croaks, backing away from the door, dark eyes pooled with tears.

 

Aelin, Rowan, Fenrys, Vaughan and Lysandra all stand outside the door of the infirmary. Aelin, Lysandra and Fenrys are audibly holding back tears, Vaughan suspiciously turning away with a hand over his mouth. Rowan stares at the wall and swallows thickly, expression forcibly stoic.

 

“I’m just,” Aelin sucks in a deep breath, linking arms with Lysandra, “going to go to my room with Lysandra.”

 

The shifter nods, her lower lip trembling as she and the queen slowly make their way to the chamber, small, hitching breaths their only signs of struggle. Rowan makes a vague, clumsy hand gesture towards them before ducking his head and quickly following.

 

Fenrys nudges Vaughan. “We need to be good uncles.”

 

Vaughan nods, a hand still covering his mouth as he look away.

 

“I mean, I’m obviously already the favourite,” Fenrys continues to whisper, relieved when amusement shines in Vaughan’s dark eyes, “but you’re getting up there.”

 

Shaking his head, the dark haired male claps Fenrys on the shoulder. “Gavriel cares about Aedion deeply. It would dishonourable to allow anything to happen to the child of our blood-sworn brother.”

 

Fenrys raises a brow. “Aedion also took Aelin’s blood oath.”

 

“The boys barely two decades old, as far as I’m concerned we’re his blood-sworn uncles,” Vaughan gives a rare grin of amusement. “Let’s try not to think of it too hard.”

 

“I can hear you,” Gavriel hums, his voice floating through the door.

 

Both of the fae pause.

 

Fenrys leans closer to the door. “Is boyo…?”

 

“Still asleep.”

 

“Oh, thank the gods,” Vaughan mutters in relief.

 

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Fenrys murmurs apologetically, he and Vaughan slinking down the hallway.

 

Shaking his head, Gavriel turns back to Aedion.

 

Their family is so much larger than it once was.

 

 

 

 

17.

 

“It’s hellfire! What would we even do with it?”

 

Ren scowls at Aedion, holding a small jar. “I just thought that we could find a way to work out proportion sizes.”

 

“How about this?” Aedion purses his lips as he takes in the storeroom set far, _far_ apart from the castle. “One barrel was enough to keep a large farm burning for hours. Three barrels allow you to blow up and evil demon tower and a wide radius of underground caves. Happy?”

 

“Come on, Aedion,” Ren gestured to the jar cupped in his hand. “Look at what a small amount it is. Besides, wouldn’t it be beneficial if we learnt what lighting small pouches of it could do? It’d be the same as leaving small bombs, and the more we know about the range of its effect the better. You can’t tell me you aren’t curious.”

 

No, Aedion can’t say that. If they learnt how to wield the hellfire properly, how to contain it in small portions, it could become an invaluable weapon for the defence of the country.

 

So Aedion sucks in a deep breath, and asks “does Aelin know about this?”

 

“She’s waiting at the testing site.”

 

Of course she is. His cousin is brilliant in many different fields. If anyone would have a basic idea of how to control something like this, never mind something so closely related to fire, it’d be her.

 

“Fine,” Aedion relents, ignoring the excitement sparking in his chest. “Let’s do this.”

 

~~~

 

“Well,” Aedion stares, Aelin grinning proudly besides him. “I didn’t think you’d actually be this prepared.”

 

Aelin slaps him on the chest, glaring playfully. “Of course I did. This is an important experiment.”

 

Aedion looks at the deep, circular ring of water surrounding a patch of land much smaller than the moat around it, a meter or two in size. Stone bricks that no doubt will be a struggle to burn circle the outside of the small island like a campfire. The land has been mowed clear of grass and leaves and twigs, all flammable materials removed from the area. The perfect space to test such a thing, in a sun-filled, empty clearing.

 

“Alright,” Ren circles the space, eyes calculating. “We’ll start with an incredibly small portion. I’ll wade into the water, come back, and we an then throw a match on it.”

 

“Agreed,” Aelin nods, her keen gaze taking in the area.

 

“It sounds good,” Aedion agrees, watching as Ren walks through the water, it going to his knees. “Does anyone else know about this little experiment?”

 

“I told Rowan,” Aelin reassures him. “The area has been cleared of people.”

 

Ren comes back, everyone looking at the small pouch that had been left in the centre of the tiny island, not even the size of the jar that Ren presented to Aedion. Lighting the match, ren quickly leans forward to throw it on the pouch, the fire setting ablaze immediately.

 

“It didn’t explode,” Aelin murmurs, watching the smoke rise as the flames steadily grow stronger. “We would need a slightly larger portion for that. This seems better for starting smaller, unnoticeable flames.”

 

“It could be used for more than weaponry,” Aedion comment, gaining both Aelin and Ren’s attention. “Lighting fires for emergency singling can be difficult in situations where there is little time to collect kindling and find a flint. If all you need is a single pouch and a match to create smoke it could be beneficial.”

 

They continue discussing planes, turning away from the fire for a moment.

Just as the flames start to lick up the stones, and attach themselves to a stick that lays over the moat where Ren had not noticed it.

 

“The possibly of it being turned against us is great,” Aedion contemplates, arms crosses. “We’d need to store it all in a non-flammable vault, or find someway to contain it without… Why is my leg-“

 

“Shit!” Aelin hisses, noticing the fire that’s starting to cling to small, missed blades as grass, apparently needing littler than expected to spread.

 

Cursing heavily, Aedion ducks his leg into the small moat, the tiny flame that had been creeping up the fabric dissipating immediately. Ren grabs a bucket he kept nearby and starts scooping out the water to douse the flames, coming up with swears louder and brighter than Aedion could have ever though of. Aedion also winces at Aelin’s shock that spreads through the blood-oath like a shot, resisting the urge to help his cousin and Ren take out the flames, choosing instead to leave his leg in the water to cool.

By the end of the scurrying they’re all covered in ash and smelling of putrid smoke, even Aedion, who’s right leg is the only clean part of him thanks to the water.

 

And it’s no surprise that the court comes running in response to Aelin’s shock.

 

“Are you alright?” Rowan thunders towards them, running his eyes over them all even as he clearly heads straight for Aelin.

 

“Fine,” Ren sighs. “It wasn’t as explosive, but the flames were persistent.”

 

“Well damn,” Fenrys whistles lowly, examining the small, scorched area. “Good thing no one caught fire.”

 

“Aedion did,” Vaughan points to the said male’s soaked right leg. “Didn’t you?”

 

Aedion chooses to give a glare as a response. Lysandra stifles a smile.

 

“What, exactly, were you all thinking?”

 

Everyone freezes at the chilled voice, at the cutting, precise words.

And they turn to look at Gavriel.

 

The Lion runs his ablaze eyes over the three of them, hovering over Aedion especially. “What on this earth made you think this could be a good idea, Aedion?”

 

The prince has nothing to say at the clear anger coming from the usually calm male.

 

“Oh shit,” Fenrys murmurs, gripping Rowan’s arm. “He’s pissed. Rowan, Gavriel’s _pissed_.”

 

Rowan clings onto Fenrys’ arm in turn, tilting his body to be angled in front of Aelin, uncharacteristically pale. “He is.”

 

Vaughan, for his part, simply swallows, pulling Lysandra and Ren away.

 

Aedion has no escape.

 

“So Aelin and Ren came to you with this idea,” Gavriel continues, “and you decided to quite literally fan the flames?”

 

“We thought out precautions,” Aedion gestures to the area.

 

The area that is now charred.

 

“Your leg caught on fire,” Gavriel continues quietly, his arms crossed. “You call putting yourself in physical harm precautionary?”

 

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Aedion bares his teeth.

 

A muscle feathers in Gavriel’s jaw, the Lion’s stare angrier then it had been when Aedion resisted rest at the gates. “Your plan to test a dangerous substance.”

 

“Lord Gavriel?” Ren coughs, pale. “To test it was my idea.”

 

Gavriel’s eyes flicker to Ren for a bare second before turning back to his son. “And you went along with this idea?”

 

“I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions,” Aedion says through gritted teeth, highly aware of everyone’s gazes.

 

Gavriel says nothing, simply examining the charred land before turning back to the three of them, his face softening with sadness. “I am deeply disappointed.”

 

Aedion jerks back as if having been slapped, something like devastation flashing across his face before he regains his composer. The rest of the court stares, holding their breaths.

 

“Deeply disappointed?” Aedion repeats, voice devoid of everything but shock.

 

“You were nearly burnt!” Gavriel barks, his change of tone causing everyone to flinch. “Look at what a small portion of the hellfire did! If you had used even the smallest bit more you could have ended up seriously injured!”

 

“Then we’ll test it better next time!”

 

“There will be no next time!”

 

“You don’t get to make that decision!”

 

The rest of the court attempts to slowly creep away, their eyes shooting between the two males as they go back and forth.

 

“It is when you purposefully put yourself in a dangerous situation!” Gavriel snaps back. “Gods, Aedion, out of everything this has to be the most reckless thing you’ve done since the war ended!”

 

“It was a test!” Aedion stresses the point, similar anger boiling inside of him. “It was thought out!”

 

“Thought out?” Gavriel’s voice drops.

 

“Shit,” Fenrys murmurs, Rowan nodding in agreement at the tone that the Lion rarely uses.

 

“So it was thought out when you decided to play with hellfire?” Gavriel continues on in that too-quiet voice. “To put yourself in physical danger?”

 

Aedion stands firm. The two males stare at each other, neither yielding even an inch.

 

“You’re grounded.”

 

Silence reins.

 

“I’m... I’m grounded?” Aedion repeats in disbelief, blinking.

 

“Yes.”

 

That one word snaps Aedion out of his shock, a growl erupting from his throat. “I’m twenty-four! I’m a grown ass man!”

 

“A grown ass man that is still going out to get drunk as a coping method and is now resorting to hellfire!” Gavriel growls lowly. “And don’t you try to lie to me and say you haven’t been doing so. I know you do it at least once every two weeks, and the only the gods know that I gave you time to self-correct.”

 

Aedion gapes. “What I do is my own damn business!”

 

“Not when it becomes self-destructing!” Gavriel bares his teeth. “Gods damn it Aedion, I will not watch you destroy yourself! I’ve left you to your own devices since finding you drunk off your ass, but this, this stunt right here, draws the line!”

 

“It wasn’t supposed to have been this dangerous!” Aedion flings an arm out to gesture at the scene.

 

The rest of the court has managed to inch a few meters back, still watching, unable to look away as they cling to one another.

 

“Exactly!” Gavriel agrees. “You have no regard or thought for your personal safety! You’re grounded.”

 

Aedion’s teeth grind, and he crosses his own arms. “I am a twenty-four year old male, grounding doesn’t apply.”

 

“Well it does now,” Gavriel’s voice leaves no room for contradiction. “You can start by not going out to get smashed past twelve for another three weeks, along with only training three hours a day and working five.”

 

Aedion gapes. “You can’t ground me from working and socialising!”

 

“Three weeks,” Gavriel points, his eyes narrowed. “Be glad those are the only consequences you’re receiving for this stunt. I would limit you more if not for the fact that I know you’d turn to other self-destructive methods. I’m incredibly disappointed by what’s happened here and am in no room for bullshit right now.”

 

Silence rings out. Taking it as a confirmation, Gavriel turns and strides away, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides as he does so.

Aedion simply stares, open mouthed, at his father. As soon as Gavriel leaves the sight Aedion sounds out an angered growl, spinning on his heel and stalking away.

 

The rest of the court stares where the two had been.

 

“So as you can see,” Fenrys swallows, “the lion is a creature that can become violent when heavily provoked.”

 

Ren releases a slight laugh, it shaky on the account that the Lion’s stare is still embedded in his mind.

 

“Don’t you laugh,” Rowan grumbles, glaring. “This was a horrible idea.”

 

“You agreed with it,” Aelin shrugs easily. “Don’t pretend you didn’t. And is he... Is Aedion really grounded?”

 

“Depends if he listens to Gavriel or not,” Vaughan says uncomfortably.

 

“Would Gavriel be angered if he didn’t?” Lysandra questions, staring after Aedion.

 

“Inconsolable,” Fenrys shudders.

 

~~~

 

“Unbelievable,” Aedion growls under his breath the next day as he repeatedly stabs at a training dummy with his sword. “Twenty-four... a general...”

 

Kyllian shifts nervously from where he watches his friend. “Aedion?”

 

“What, Kyllian?”

 

The man winces as the sword is yanked free. “It’s, ah... you’ve been training for three and a half hours...”

 

Stiffening, Aedion turns slowly to look at him, body sheeting with sweat and heavy for air.

 

“Of course,” Kyllian holds his hand up, walking back, “you know your own limits and everything. It’s just that Gavriel may- and I mean might- have a point about how often you overwork yourself? A time limit might not... be... the worst... alright, I might just leave. I’m young, I don’t need to be the one to do this.”

 

At his words Aedion saga, rubbing tiredly at his face. “I’m sorry, Kyllian. It isn’t you who I’m mad at.”

 

“Right,” Kyllian leans on his staff. “It’s Gavriel, I’m guessing?”

 

“I’m twenty-four!” Aedion growls, slashing at the dummy once again. “And he’s treated me like a five year old in front of the entire court for something that wasn’t even my idea to begin with!”

 

“Alright,” Kyllian eyes him. “The thing is, you don’t usually care about punishments or get rattled by stuff like this. But you seem pretty rattled right now.”

 

Aedion gives no answer.

 

“Aedion,” Kyllian says gently, fighting back a smile, “it’s alright if you’re upset that you disappointed Gavriel.”

 

“I am not upset,” Aedion bites back a growl. “I don’t care.”

 

“Right,” Kyllian nods slowly. “So you don’t care that your father cares enough about you to try to limit you?”

 

Aedion sighs. “I don’t have self-destructive tendencies.”

 

Kyllian sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Actually, I’d say Gavriel got it pretty right. The training, the drinking...”

 

“Training is to stay sharp and I only go every once in a while,” Aedion argues, pointing for emphasis.

 

“Yes,” Kyllian crosses his arms, pronouncing the word slowly, “but it isn’t hard to guess what intentions you go in there with. Why don’t you try the three weeks with limited work and training? See how you feel and at the end of it and we can then go drinking.”

 

“I am not a child to be tested,” Aedion grits his teeth. “Do not patronise me.”

 

“I’m not patronising you,” Kyllian shakes his head. “You know I never would. It’s just that it’s clear that you’re struggling, Aedion, and Gavriel is right in saying it’s painful to watch. Taking break may not be the worst idea. And if you can’t do it for yourself,” Kyllian swallows thickly, standing straighter, “then please, Aedion, please do it for the rest of us. We all love you, and watching you overwork yourself is killing us.”

 

A few moments pass, and Aedion approaches Kyllian to wrap an arm around his shoulders. Without hesitation, Kyllian returns the gesture.

 

“I’m going to go talk with Gavriel,” Aedion sighs as he pulls away.

 

Kyllian nods, patting his shoulder. “Good.”

 

~~~

 

“Four hours each.”

 

Gavriel stares up at Aedion, the Lion sitting on the edge of his bed, surprised at his son’s sudden entrance. “What?”

 

“Four hours of work a day, and four hours of training a day,” Aedion crosses his arms. “That’s an eight hour day. And I’ll hold off on purposely going out to drink, instead drinking in moderation at meals.”

 

Assessing him, Gavriel sits back. “Alright.”

 

“Alright?”

 

Gavriel shrugs, sitting back. “Alright. That sounds reasonable. And I realise that I need to apologies;I overstepped a line yesterday.”

 

Hesitating for only a moment, Aedion sits besides his father on the bed. “So why did you?”

 

Groaning, Gavriel rubs at his face. “Aedion, there has to be some consequence to those kind of actions.”

 

“So grounding your adult son is the answer?” Aedion scowls.

 

“If that’s what it needs to be,” Gavriel gives another week shrug.

 

“I had clearance,” Aedion resists growling as he counts off on his fingers. “The queen cleared it, it was someone else’s idea, we took precautions and even consulted Rowan. We _thought out ways to combat the fire should it spread, and I wasn’t even injured. Tell me where I went wrong to deserve being treated like that in front of the entire court!_ ”

 

“I can’t,” Gavriel bites out.

 

“Then _why?”_ Aedion growls.

 

“Because you are my son!” Gavriel throws his hands up. “And believe it or not Aedion, I am concerned about you and your lack of thought for your own safety!”

 

“Then talk to me!”

 

“I can’t, Aedion!”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I’m not sure what’s crossing a boundary and what isn’t!” Gavriel clenches his hands in his lap as he stares at his son.

 

Aedion stares back for a moment, then looks away. They stew in the silence, Gavriel regretting his words as the tension grows. He instead chooses to look at the mantle on top of his fire place, where a small clock he once had has now disappeared.

 

Likely stolen by a struggling servant, still recovering from the losses caused by the war. Gavriel has no use for the trinket, not when there’s someone else it could so very well help.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Gavriel jerks to look at his son.

 

Aedion sucks in a deep breath, slowly unclenching his hands as he releases it. “I’m sorry. For making you feel as though… as though I do not want you to talk to me.”

 

The Lion blinks.

 

“I’m sorry for making that so difficult,” Aedion swallows, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know that talking about some topics can make me… angry. I promise to work on it so that you can come to me more to talk about things I need to change. I’m not very good at…” Aedion pauses, swallowing thickly, “I’m not used to dealing with things such as this, I suppose.”

 

He wouldn’t, Gavriel supposes. As one of the youngest leaders in the country Aedion wouldn’t have dealt with consequences often, and when he did they most likely would have been on the extreme side. On the side of lives being lost, and sinking beneath the guilt that comes with leading warriors to their graves.

 

No wonder he can’t take the healthy medium. No wonder he struggles to adapt to consequences and warnings when they must seem so insignificant compared to past experiences.

 

“I never thought you didn’t want to talk to me,” Gavriel finally decides on saying. “Never. But Aedion, you are not the general of this court. But you are also an adult. I shouldn’t have called you out like I did in front of everybody but at the same time there does need to start being some limitations. If there aren’t then you’ll start to burn yourself out. With the training and working especially.”

 

“Alright,” Aedion swallows, clearly tense as he takes in the words. “Alright. I’ll cut it down. And I’ll try to listen, to be better at communication. Just promise me that you’ll respect me as the adult I am in front of the court.”

 

Gavriel’s eyes soften with both relief and amusement as he he places a hand on Aedion’s shoulder. “Aedion, I respect you more than you could possibly know.”

 

~~~

 

“So,” Aelin smiles slightly at Gavriel and Aedion. “You two talked?”

 

The two males pause in their discussion, turning to look at the queen sitting at the end of the dining table. their food is nearly untouched, neither of them breaking their intense rambling about multiple topics.

 

“Yes,” Aedion flashes a bright smile. “We did.”

 

“I need to apologise,” Gavriel clears his throat. “For earlier today. I didn’t mean to…”

 

“To go into father kitty-cat mode?” Aelin smirks.

 

Gavriel blinks, then shakes his head and turns away. Aedion on the other hand collapses into a laugh along with his cousin, the two of them struggling to stay upright.

 

Lysandra watches with clear relief. “So Aedion told you he accidentally broke your clock?”

 

Aedion’s laughter turns into choking, his golden skin paling of colour.

 

Gavriel turns to his son. “You _broke my clock?_ It was indestructible!”

 

Aedion simply gives a small grin, his eyes flicking to Aelin, who seems equally as shifty. “It’s a long story?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this! As always, requests are loved and written!


	14. Tap, Rap, Pat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cadre decide to train with Aedion... and some conflict is stirred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this fandom. Just. We're great.

18.

 

It‘s a thrumming. A beat that pulses through his body as he inhales each breath that flows from the centre of his being to the tips of his fingers gripped around the spear.

It’s the sound of the gravel shifting under his feet as he lays still in wait, watching for the enemy to attack.

It’s also the tingle on the back of his neck as he feels the eyes of the cadre steadily on him.

Watching him.

Assessing him.

 

The old bastards.

 

But Ren flies out to his side, Kyllian from the other, and all it takes is two large swiping movements to force their weapons flying out of their hands. Aedion twirls his own spear in his grasp, swiping Ren’s legs out from underneath him and then jabbing Kyllian solidly in the chest with the blunt side.

Enough to make the warrior fall back with a resounding thud. And there’s no need for concern with Ren; not with how Aedion has steadily kept the spears head pointed against his throat.

 

“Alright,” Kyllian groans, holding up a hand. “Alright. Stop grinning, you smug bastard. I think I’m done for the day.”

 

“I’m just done,” Ren says from where he lies with his eyes closed.

 

Aedion shakes his head, grinning as he offers Kyllian a hand. “It’s barely been two hours.”

 

“No,” Ren groans, sitting up, “it’s been two and a half. And as a lord of this country,” he clampers to his feet, “I have important work to do.”

 

“Enjoy your work, oh so powerful lord,” Aedion gives a mock bow, smirking at the glare sent his way.

 

“Leave Ren alone,” Kyllian nudges Aedion as he passes. “I mean, I get it, but maybe not after you’ve just kicked our asses.”

 

Aedion just smirks, then jolts at the long whistle released behind him.

 

Right.

 

Them.

 

“Nice technique with the spear, boyo,” Fenrys grins, the rest of the remaining cadre members standing with him.

 

As much as Aedion loves Elide visiting, he wished she didn’t bring her dark and brooding male with her.

 

“Thank you,” Aedion dips his head in acknowledgment, palming the weapon. “It’s a Terrasen technique.”

 

Rowan hums from where he stands. “Think you could show us a few Terrasen moves?”

 

It’s all Aedion can do not to move under the intense gaze of all the males; even Gavriel is waiting for Aedion’s answer. The prince clenches his jaw. He’ll be damned if he bows under those gazes, if he proves himself to be a weak, younger male.

 

“Of course,” Aedion replies, ironing any tension from his voice with a slick smoothness. “The spears are over there.”

 

He can feel the attention of every single one of them, even when their back are turned.

 

Then they all turn to face him.

 

Lorcan, Vaughan, Fenrys, Gavriel and Rowan.

 

Five of the deadliest males there are, all pinning their sole focus on Aedion, none of them wavering in the slightest.

 

“Right,” Aedion plants his feet. “Let’s get started.”

 

~~~

 

For the most part, it starts off well.

Even with Lorcan’s glare, Fenrys’ running commentary, Roman’s suspiciously raises eyebrows whenever he speaks and Vaughan’s careful assessment of everything Aedion does.

Gavriel, for the most part, is just being awful by giving clearly supportive smiles and nods. As if Aedion needs encouragement and protection. As if he’s a child.

At least they’ve followed his instructions for the most part.

 _The most part_.

 

“Boyo, shift your foot to the side.”

 

“You call that a stance? Straighten your shoulders.”

 

“I think if we tried a different movement it would flow better.”

 

“I hate this.”

 

“Aedion, are you sure that’s the correct hold?”

 

It gets worse as the hour drags on. And Aedion knows it’s an hour, for he keeps his eyes steadily on the clock.

 

“Well,” Aedion drops from his stance, “I’ve been training for three and a half hours, and that’s half an hour over my limit, damn it. So I’ll see you all at the dining hall tonight and-“

 

He freezes at Rowan’s hand on his shoulder.

 

“Not so fast,” Rowan smiles, challenge sparking in his eyes. “Surely you could make an exception this once?”

 

Aedion slides his gaze over to Gavriel, who simply waits to hear Aedion’s answer, giving no indication of what is correct and what is not.

 

“Of course,” Aedion rolls his shoulders, turning to face them all. “How could I refuse?”

 

Their answering smiles say it all; he can’t.

 

“Right,” Aedion grumbles, turning away. “Let’s get back to it then.”

 

Three techniques. He gets through three damn techniques before Rowan, the damn king of all things, decides to stop them to walk up to Aedion and copy the technique once again, only with his own twist.

 

“See,” Rowan follows the movement through, yet twists his hips and arms to the left at the end. “If you manage to turn to the side while keeping your stance it’ll result in stopping your right from being vulnerable.”

 

Breathing in a deep breath through his nose, Aedion readies a reply, only to freeze and lock up as Rowan grabs his arm and hip and walks him through the motion. As if he’s a small child learning how to move for the first time. As if Rowan needs to teach him how to place his damn feet like a novice.

 

He tries not to make it too obvious that he’s retching himself from Rowan’s grip. “Right. Alright. Let’s just get back to it.”

 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Gavriel suggests, walking up to gently take Aedion’s spear from his hand. “Let’s go get ready for dinner.”

 

Aedion blinks as they all pass by him, patting him on the shoulder and giving an occasional smile.

 

~~~

 

“It was like I was five years old, Lysandra! Five years old! Can you believe that?”

 

“Uh-huh,” the shifter sorts the pillows on the bed as Aedion paces by the end of it.

 

“After grounding me I thought this wouldn’t happen again!” Aedion throws his hands up as he paces, gesturing feverishly. “But it has! And not only was it Gavriel, but all of them! All of them!”

 

“Right,” Lysandra pulls out a book, collapsing back onto all the pillows.

 

“I mean, Rowan directed me like I was five! Five! I don’t- Lysandra, are you listening?”

 

She looks up, nodding. “Of course. You have every right to be upset.”

 

“Thank you! Gods, you’d think those bastards would know to treat me with some damn respect, but no! They just go ahead and treat me as though I’m just some child they’re entertaining! And how dare they comment on the fighting techniques of Terrasen’s oldest warriors?”

 

The bed bounces as he falls back onto it, groaning with an arm flung over his eyes. Lysandra reaches out and absentmindedly runs a hand through his hair.

 

“I’m sure they were just trying to get to know you,” she murmurs holding the book with her free hand.

 

“Right,” Aedion mumbles into his arm. “Getting to know me while treating me like a child and disrespecting this countries ancient fighting styles. And they want to train together again tomorrow!”

 

Lysandra finally puts the book down, giving a small smile. “Isn’t that something you’ve wanted for a while?”

 

“Yes,” Aedion sighs, dropping his arm, “but I feel as though they are testing my patience.”

 

Humming, Lysandra drums her fingers on the covers. “Ever thought that they may be doing just that?”

 

Realisation sparks in Aedion’s eyes, lighting his face up for the barest of moments before a sly smirk takes over.

Oh, he knows their game. And he will be more patient than he has ever been in his life.

 

“You’re brilliant.”

 

“Of course.”

 

~~~

 

“Aedion!” Lorcan snaps for the fifteenth time. “Either move your damn foot properly or stop wasting my time!”

 

It’s hard.

So hard.

Harder than Aedion could have ever predicted. He’d woken up bad, every fibre of his being screaming at him not to get out of bed, thoughts coming unbidden that he had done so well warring against. His very stomach did nothing but sink as soon as he got up, feeling almost as though cement has been poured through his blood.

He did not need today to be one of those days. But he grits his teeth, sparring and being efficiently defeated by nearly every member of the cadre.

So he shakes his head, choosing to focus on his sparring session with Fenrys, even if he does change the position of his left foot. The wolf grins as he does so, Fenrys twirling the staff in his hands as he circles Aedion.

 

“Guess I’m the last one to beat you into the dust, huh boyo?” Fenrys gives a pleasant little smile. “No, wait, you still got your old man to face, don’t you?”

 

Indeed, Gavriel stands to the side, arms crossed as he waits to be the last one to face his son.

 

Growling under his breath, Aedion darts towards Fenrys, having no mood for their usual witty talk.

Of course, all it takes is for the wolf to spin away and kick Aedion’s knees out from under him. Gritting his jaw once more, Aedion can feel everyone’s gazes in him. Especially Gavriel, who watches him closely as Fenrys help him stand.

 

“Are you alright?” Gavriel murmurs to Aedion as he steps into the ring, leaning in close.

 

“I’m fine,” Aedion flicks his brows up. “If you mean aside from the fact I’ve had my ass continuously handed to me.”

 

Gavriel flashes a smile, the original version to Aedion’s own, and prepares himself for the fight. Aedion follows his lead and drops into position, waiting for Rowan to give the signal to start.

The king drops his hand.

 

Aedion doesn’t even see his father coming for him; one moment he’s standing, and the next he’s thudding on the ground with Gavriel’s weight on top of him, wincing at a shock of pain.

 

Right. No favouritism in the ring, then. It makes joy spark in Aedion’s chest. Of course is father would do him the honour of not holding back.

 

Fenrys releases a low whistle as the others mutter, Rowan scowling.

 

“You were supposed to use the spear,” Rowan glares, “not tackle him to the ground.”

 

Gavriel shrugs easily from where he kneels over Aedion, then stops, sniffing. Aedion has to hold back a groan. The Wolf of the North had smelt his own blood perpetrate the air just moments ago. Gods know that Gavriel will wish to inspect for injury.

Sure enough, Gavriel slips a hand gently behind Aedion’s head, feeling a small cut among the mass of hair that beads only a few small droplets thanks to the gravel.

 

“It’s only a little bit of blood,” Gavriel smiles in relief, holding up his barely-stained fingers.

 

The ground lurches.

 

~~~

 

_Breath, breath, breath, breath…_

 

“- _don’t-“_

 

_“-shut up, whelp-“_

 

_“-for gods sakes! Someone pin the boy down-!”_

 

_No air. No air filling the lungs when there should be._

 

_“-you’re acting like a damn child!”_

 

_Please, please, please, please…_

 

_“-it’s just a little bit of blood! Stop your crying!“_

 

_~~~_

 

“Shit,” Gavriel hisses, backing away from Aedion, his son’s eyes distant as he shakes beneath his father, retching. _“Aedion.”_

 

The rest of the cadre hover forward, clearly alarmed at the hectic breathing Aedion releases as he rolls onto his side, emptying his guts as his entire body shakes with barely contained terror. 

 

“Let him breath!” Rowan snaps, holding out an arm as Fenrys darts forward, pain and concern etched in the wolf’s face.

 

Gavriel deftly rolls off Aedion, kneeling by his side, hands hovering over him as he continues to retch. Finally, Aedion stops, sagging and panting as he keeps his eyes tightly screwed shut, chest aching. He waits where he lays, highly aware of everyone’s eyes on him along with Gavriel’s warm hand on his shoulder.

 

“I’m fine,” Aedion wipes his mouth, twisting his body to sit upright, leaning back on one hand.

 

“That,” Lorcan examines him with a critical eye, “was not alright.”

 

Aedion slowly stands, allowing Gavriel’s hand to remain on his shoulder in comfort. His father continues to give him a long, assessing look, almost as though he can see through Aedion’s flesh.

 

“Guess today was just one of those bad days,” Gavriel says softly.

 

Aedion sucks in a shaky breath quickly, swallowing to compose himself as his father’s soft words of understanding bring forth another wave of emotion. He will not shed a tear in front of these fae; not on his life.

 

“You should have told me,” Gavriel murmurs, still observing Aedion closely for more signs of distress. “You should have told me that today was a bad day.”

 

Aedion shakes his head, leaning away. “I’m fine.”

 

Gavriel’s frown clearly expresses what the Lion thinks of that answer.

 

“I’m fine now,” Aedion amends his sentence, standing solidly, turning to meet everyone’s eyes.

 

They all look back. Assessing, yet not criticising. More concerned than anything. It almost makes bile rise in Aedion’s throat.

 

“Let’s leave it at that,” Rowan decides ultimately, twirling his spear as he places it back in the rack. “We can pick up tomorrow.”

 

“Right,” Aedion mutters against the back of his hand, still trying to wipe away the vile taste.

 

It’s difficult, really to feel their eyes on him as they leave. To know that they may talk about this later, or at the very least wonder what the hell is wrong with him. Aedion picks up his own spear and any remaining on the ground, going to the rack to sort them together. He can feel Gavriel follow him.

 

“Do you need to talk?” Gavriel asks softly, the question slow and tentative in his deep baritone.

 

“I’d rather not,” Aedion focuses on the spears. “Just… I’m just having a bad day.”

 

He can almost feel Gavriel nod as he allows his head to bow forward, unable to look at the male with his stomach still churning and eyes heavy-lidded. Aedion turns away with the single purpose in mind to stride away, not caring how dismissive or child like it would be, yet is halted by Gavriel folding Aedion into his arms. Aedion draws in a shaky breath against Gavriel’s shoulder, his father’s skin warm underneath the cotton shirt he’s wearing.

 

“It’s alright to have bad days,” Gavriel says quietly, simply standing there, allowing Aedion to relax in his hold. “But you shouldn’t push yourself to train during them, Aedion.”

 

“I’m not going to let them win.”

 

“Life isn’t supposed to be a punishment. You don’t need to force yourself through painful situations.”

 

A small arrow of fear shoots its way through Aedion as he realises that the cotton of his fathers shirt underneath his eyes has become wet with tears he barely knew were falling. He wrenches himself away, rubbing hard at his eyes as he turns back to the spears, fixing the last one in place.

 

“I’d rather not talk about this now,” Aedion hates the way his voice grinds, his throat obviously thick.

 

“Alright,” Gavriel says, his voice heartbreakingly soft.

 

“I really don’t.”

 

“I understand.”

 

Nodding, Aedion breathes in a large breath, attempting to still his lips as he purses them.

 

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Gavriel suggests.

 

Aedion nods once more, turning to walk with him back into the castle.

 

~~~

 

It’s difficult not to feel the gazes. The concerned looks, the evaluating stares. He can’t ignore the fact that the next day, when they all get ready to train again, every fae male is watching him for some kind of sign that today may not be a day for such an activity.

As if he needs to be monitored, as if he needs to be watched.

 

“I’m telling you, I’m fine,” Aedion hisses to Gavriel through gritted teeth.

 

“I know that,” Gavriel says petulantly, focusing on the training ring as Fenrys and Rowan go at it.

 

“Then why do you keep insisting I wear armour?”

 

“I never said that.”

 

“You basically offered me a whole suit.”

 

“I did not,” Gavriel says, giving the sense that if he was any less of a male he’d be rolling his eyes.

 

“You did.”

 

“It was some limb guards, that was it!” Gavriel’s calm facade finally cracks, indignation taking over.

 

Aedion shakes his head, not giving him the pleasure of an answer. Limb guards. As if he’s a novice, or some breakable, fragile child.

 

“Alright,” Fenrys pants, walking back with Rowan besides him. “Who’s next?”

 

Aedion steps forward, and pretends not to notice the concerned glances they all share, even if it’s a challenge to choke back a growl. But then again, snarling his head off at them may be satisfying. Gavriel also steps forward, and Aedion has to subtly suck in a deep breath, rage flourishing once again at the relieved sigh that everyone clearly clearly releases. Obviously it’s assumed that no _real_ harm will come to Aedion during this training session with his father.

 

It. Pisses. Him. Off.

 

But they both grab practice swords, the same as usual blades but dulled to the point where death is always hopefully avoided (after all, they don’t need their own soldiers dying thanks to training). They face each other, and Aedion flips the sword in his hand once, twice, as he carefully watches Gavriel.

 

“Begin,” Rowan nods.

 

They move forward at the same time, Aedion moving with everything he has to avoid a quick defeat like the day before. To his surprise, Gavriel simply deflects and blocks most of his hits, and Aedion manages to avoid most of his father’s attacks. After a solid minute Aedion changes his style, throwing his entire body into attacking.

Left side open.

Right side open.

Left again.

And yet, Gavriel ignores it all.

 

“Watch your defence,” Gavriel mentions calmly, brows bunching in concern as he deflects Aedion’s hits. “You’re leaving your sides open.”

 

Aedion pulls back, and, unable to help himself, snarl viciously in his father’s face. “I _know!_ ”

 

Concern flickers across Gavriel’s expression.

 

“Should we leave?” Vaughan mutters to Lorcan as they all watch, the other male simply shrugging.

 

“Do not,” Aedion advances forward once more, “patronise me!”

 

“Aedion, I am not!”

 

“Two minutes!” Aedion growls, panting as he regains his breath. “Unless you haven’t noticed, this has gone on for a literal two full minutes! You’ve barely even attacked me at your full speed or anything!”

 

Gavriel’s jaw tightens, and Aedion takes some satisfaction in the way that his father’s advances suddenly become harder to defend against. Shaking his head, Gavriel continues to focus on blocking and deflecting.

 

“What if you panic again?”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“You can’t be sure of that.”

 

“I haven’t panicked in the middle of a battle in years!”

 

At his last words which were supposed to be a reassurance, Aedion clamps his mouth shut, the fight automatically freezing as everyone stares at him. Something akin to pure horror flashes in Gavriel’s eyes, his father’s tanned complexion losing colour, even the other males giving him wide-eyed looks.

 

“You panicked,” Gavriel rolls the words over slowly in his mouth, “in the middle of battle, and yet they still let you fight? How old were you?”

 

“It doesn’t-“

 

“ _How old were you?_ ”

 

Aedion barely resists flinching at the tone. “Fifteen... No one noticed so it wasn’t an issue.”

 

It’s a shock, when Gavriel outrightly drops the sword to the ground, turns on his heel and storms away, snarling viciously enough that Aedion feels something inside of him cower at the sound, all surrounding fae no doubt feeling the same effect at the scent of pure rage. Silence stretches out between everyone, yet Aedion just swallows thickly and reaches down to pick up Gavriel’s sword, begging internally that the males can’t see how white his knuckles are, or won’t notice how difficult it is to keep the tremble from his hand.

That rage. That rage shouldn’t terrify him as much as it does. But he’s seen it before, and felt it, from so many people. It’s unimaginable that Gavriel would ever be one of them, yet keeping that physical reaction to fear at a minimum is difficult.

 

“Boyo,” Fenrys’ hand lands on his shoulder. “Boyo, it’s alright. You know he wasn’t mad at you, right, Aedion?”

 

“I know,” Aedion snorts, placing the two swords away. “Who’s next?”

 

They all hesitate.

 

“Who’s. Next?”

 

Aedion will be damned, if he allows them to think that he can’t handle training with them after a small spat with his father. As if being trained by these males wasn’t his life’s wish from the moment he was a child and was first told of their legends.

Not that he’ll ever tell them that.

One by one, they all go through the motions of training again, even if everything is stiffer than it once was. Aedion ignores it, choosing instead to focus on his movements.

 

~~~

 

Aedion doesn’t see Gavriel for the rest of the day or the next. Whenever he questions anyone about it, they simply state that his father’s presence is unknown.

He knows, Aedion knows, that Gavriel wouldn’t disown him. That he wouldn’t run off after deciding that he doesn’t want his bastard child that can’t even fight properly in battle. He knows that he is not that kind of male, that he’s not like Aedion’s relatives in Wendlyn, who were all more than happy to be rid of him. That the Lion, that Gavriel, that his _father_ , would never do that, even if Aedion can’t pin point the exact moment when he became so sure of Gavriel’s truth in his promises.

He knows.

Yet he still fears.

 

~~~

 

When Gavriel comes back, it’s in the middle of dinner, everyone in the halls pausing in their chatter as the doors open and the Lion, covered in leaves and less clean than he had been when he left, trudges up to the courts table.

And sits. Next to Lysandra, which is usually Aedion’s seat.

And hauls a plate of food towards himself to eat.

 

Aelin shares a quick look with Rowan before looking back at the male in question. “Hello, Gavriel.”

 

He dips his head. “Your Majesty.”

 

“Are you… I mean…”

 

“I just needed some air.”

 

Fenrys sips at his ale, peeking over the rim at Gavriel, everyone looking inclined to do the same as they slowly continue in their eating.

 

“Where’s Aedion?”

 

There it is. Lysandra places her fork down, conflict flittering across her face as she debates the proper words to use. Evangeline, however, seems to be outright scowling at Gavriel in a way the girl never has before.

 

“You scared him,” Evangeline’s voice snaps out at the Lion, her eyes narrowing in a fashion exactly like Lysandra’s does. “Don’t do that to him again. It’s rather unpleasant of a thing to do.”

 

Everyone seated at the table, including Gavriel, blink at her. After a moment, Aelin mumbles under her breath, and turns away to sip at her wine with amusement in her eyes and a smile on her lips. Lysandra practically beams at her ward.

 

Slow realisation comes across Gavriel as he looks to the chair where he usually sits, realising for the first time where he is seated. “Where’s Aedion?”

 

Lysandra slowly raises a brow. “You mean besides going out of his mind on where you went and whether you were going to come back?”

 

The Lion says nothing, deep sorrow taking in every fibre of his being as the words hit home, his tawny eyes turning sullen as he looks down at his plate.

 

Sighing, Lysandra jerks a thumb towards the door. “In the gardens, probably with the dogs. He had dinner early.”

 

Having the information he needs, Gavriel nods to her in thanks, standing and leaving the room. They all watch him go, Fenrys slowly sliding a plate of tarts over to Evangeline as they do.

 

~~~

 

Gavriel walks in to a very conflicting scene. On one hand, Aedion is clearly enjoying himself, kneeling with all the new hunting pups and rough housing with them. On the other hand, there’s a clear lack of colour to his skin, and Gavriel can see the tell-tale signs of fatigue.

As soon as he walks into the space Aedion’s eyes flick to him, and there’s clear relief for a moment before he looks back at a small dog tugging a rope in his hand.

 

“You look like shit,” Aedion comments as he cups the dogs head with his hands and rubs its ears, the others pushing for familiar attention.

 

Gavriel kneels by his side, lips quirked up at the small, wiggling forms that climb over his lap. “I never agreed with the idea that hunting dogs shouldn’t be coddled.”

 

“And here I was thinking you’re a cat person,” Aedion quips, tapping a pup on the nose as it nips at him.

 

Gavriel chuckles at that. For a few minutes they simply enjoy the moment, allowing the pups to be crazed by the attention. After they tire themselves out, one full-out spawned across Aedion’s lap, they resign themselves to speaking.

 

“I’m sorry,” Gavriel finally says. “I shouldn’t have left like I did.”

 

“It’s fine,” Aedion shrugs.

 

Gavriel shakes his head. “I would have gone insane if you did that.”

 

Aedion snorts in amusement. “Good to know.”

 

“She’s going to be huge,” Gavriel gestures to the pup on Aedion’s lap.

 

“She’s part wolf-hound, part-great dane,” Aedion states proudly. “She’ll be giant. She’s only a few weeks old.”

 

And yet completely takes up all of Aedion’s lap, tail thumping against the ground.

 

“Right,” Gavriel reaches over to scratch her ear.

 

“Why did you leave?” Aedion attempts to make the question casual, yet the tension in his voice slips through.

 

Gavriel sighs. “I didn’t want to concern anyone with my anger.”

 

“You concerned me by disappearing for two days,” Aedion growls under his breath. “And freaking out after training.”

 

Breathing in a large breath, Gavriel holds it before slowly releasing it. “You panicked in the middle of battle. It very well could have led to your death.”

 

“I’m usually good at pulling myself back,” Aedion swallows thickly, focusing on the dogs in his lap. “When… When you went over the wall, I couldn’t move for a moment. I just… I couldn’t move or think. I just couldn’t. Then something pushed me, and I just moved.”

 

Gavriel shakes his head. “Aedion…”

 

“I know I shouldn’t step on the field, I shouldn’t lead men if I can’t even control myself,” Aedion grits his teeth. “But there was never a choice. And it only happened once; after the first time I never experienced it again.”

 

“Can you swear to me that you’re telling the truth?” Gavriel asks softly.

 

Aedion’s eyes cut to him, alight with anger. “Fine. I swear to you that after that battle when I was fifteen, after I fell to my knees by the end of it, I never experienced that type of panic again while on the field.”

 

Gavriel swallows down a growl at the image of his son, bloodied and bruised, unable to breath as he falls to his knees. The two days clearly weren’t enough, not when he still feels the urge to hunt down every single Adarlan and Terrasen official he can find. Not when he has to curl his hands into fists to fight the urge for his mountain lion claws to rip through.

Not when the silence it has created is deafening.

 

“I’m more infuriated by the way you treated me,” Aedion growls out, gaining Gavriel’s attention once more. “It was as if I was a child, or at the very least incapable.”

 

This time, Gavriel puffs out a breath. “I know, I’m sorry, they wanted to see if they could aggravate you.”

 

Aedion gives him a bemused look. “I know. I wasn’t talking about them.”

 

“Ah,” Gavriel scratches the back of his head, eyes flicking away. “I will try to further restrain myself, I promise.”

 

“Good,” Aedion grumbles, ruffling the puppies eyes once again. “I’m not a child.”

 

“Technically, you’re my child.”

 

“Not the point and you know it!”

 

“I know,” Gavriel nods slowly. “I will try to further control myself, Aedion.”

 

“Good,” Aedion sighs. “You know, I never would have thought that I gained my anger from you.”

 

“Oh, you didn’t. The first time I met your mother she punched me.”

 

“She _what?!”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gained over four thousand hits on this fic! If anyone has any requests for bonus stories or ANYTHING let me know, I'd be more than happy to do them!


	15. Whisper, Scream, Tremble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedion, Lysandra and Gavriel go on a tripe to visit Elide to help organise Rowan's surprise birthday plans. Unfortunately, not everything goes as it was supposed to...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fandom is just awesome. Seriously, we are the best.

19.

 

“No.”

 

“Aedion-“

 

“No.”

 

“I’m your queen!”

 

“…No.”

 

Aelin scowls at her cousin from across the desk in her (royal) office. “I’m not asking much.”

 

“You want me to go on another trip with my father!” Aedion snaps, arms crossed. “In case you’ve forgotten, every trip we’ve had so far has resulted in me either falling viciously ill or injured!”

 

“I just need you to visit Elide!” Aelin throws her hands up. “Please? You love her.”

 

“I love all my cousins. That doesn’t mean I necessarily want to go on a cursed trip just to give them information. About Rowan’s birthday, no less!”

 

“It needs to be kept a secret!” Aelin growls, gripping the arms of her chair. “It’s his first birthday in Terrasen!”

 

“You’re throwing a ball!”

 

“Your birthday’s literally a holiday, don’t be fussy!”

 

“I’m not, it’s just that keeping it a secret at this point is impossible!”

 

“Not,” Aelin sits forward, “necessarily. I can do it. He has no idea that everyone is coming or that there’s going to be a giant cake.”

 

“Right. The ancient warrior has no idea.”

 

“He doesn’t! I’ve been burying him in work and meaningless tasks!”

 

Aedion snorts, shaking his head. “You’re a lovely mate.”

 

“Please,” Aelin stands, bracing her hands on the desk. “Just go and make sure Elide has the proper supplies. That’s all I ask.”

 

Sucking in a deep breath, Aedion considers his cousins pleading (and threatening) gaze.

 

“Lysandra can go with you.”

 

Aedion stands. “I’ll pack my bags.”

 

~~~

 

It was a mistake.

Such an overwhelming, horrible mistake to think that both Gavriel and Lysandra would be a good idea.

 

Especially when Aedion is forced to ride atop Lysandra in his lion cub form, the other two insisting that the trip would be ‘too slow in a humanoid form’ and since he was so small (tiny, Lysandra had dared to call him) he could just ride or be carried by them.

So he huffs, his smaller head resting on top of her larger one. The happy purr she’s been releasing helps his mood, but only to a certain degree.

Until the purring stops, and both she and Gavriel freeze, every bone in their bodies locking up and eyes narrowing as their tails flick from side to side. Unsure of the situation, Aedion raises his own head at the slow sound of crunching leaves approaching them.

 

And when two lions come near, shaking out their fur, both Aedion and Gavriel stare.

 

And stare.

 

And stare.

 

Marco shifts awkwardly. “So, have we come at a bad time, or…?”

 

Heiral, however, pads right up to Lysandra to sniff at Aedion. “Look at you! A cub! You must be growing fast.”

 

Lysandra droops her head down so Aedion can slide off, both of them shaking their fur as they stare at the two lions, Gavriel in particular still frozen to the spot in what appears to be mortification. Heiral and Marco, however, have no shame when it comes to crowding around Aedion, pushing him over with their muzzles, amused when he nips at them.

 

“Knew you could do it,” Heiral states proudly, sitting with his head held high.

 

“To what do we owe this visit?” Lysandra asks, communication only slightly distorted thanks to being a different cat species.

 

Marco’s large shoulders give a shrug, the golden fur sliding over the muscle. “We just wanted to visit. What are you three doing?”

 

“We,” Gavriel says, blinking as slowly as he speaks, “we’re going to visit the Lady of Perranth. To give her details on Rowan’s birthday. And stop to see Caraverre on the way back.”

 

“Caraverre?”

 

“Lysandra’s land.”

 

Marco blink. “You’re a lady? Then that makes Aedion…”

 

“A future lord,” Lysandra says, and Aedion pretends not to notice the humour in her voice as she says this while looking at his fuzzy form.

 

“Good on you,” Heiral nudges Aedion, nearly tipping him onto his side once more. “We were actually coming down to visit you, but maybe we could join the trip? See more of Terrasen?”

 

“Heiral,” Marco sighs. “Don’t butt in on their journey.”

 

“Please,” Lysandra bows her head, words quick and pleading. “It would be wonderful to have you. You can tell more stories about Gavriel and I can tell you stories about Aedion.”

 

The three of them starting walking, leaving Gavriel and Aedion to watch them slink away.

 

“Gavriel?”

 

“Yes, Aedion?”

 

“What do we do now?”

 

“I don’t know, Aedion.”

 

~~~

 

It’s a long trip. A long trip where more blackmail material was swapped than should have been allowed. Gavriel and Aedion just followed the three eager cats, hanging at the back of the group. Sneaking into the city at nightfall wasn’t difficult, neither was slowly slipping into Elide’s palace, where a back door had been left open for them.

 

Moving into the dining hall had been easy. Winding their way through hallways while avoiding all people. Completing the mission with all the stealth and grace that was to be expected of them.

 

Until they round a corner, and Dorian screams, dropping a mug.

 

“Just us!” Gavriel snaps, shifting back in an instant, holding his hands up even as Chaol comes barging through a door into the hallway. “Aedion, Lysandra, my brothers and I!”

 

The two men stare at them. The group stares back as everyone shifts into their human forms.

 

“Why,” Aedion blinks at Dorian, “are you here?”

 

“Manon wanted to visit Elide,” Dorian scowls as he bends to pick up the shattered pieces of mugs.

 

Aedion scowls. “You’re a king. Did you really need to come with her?”

 

Dorian throws him a confused look that states, yes, yes he did.

 

Breathing in a deep breath, Aedion pinches the bridge of his nose. “And Chaol?”

 

“I wanted a holiday.”

 

“You’re a new father.”

 

“…They may have wanted a holiday from me.”

 

Aedion turns to Dorian for an explanation, the king simply shrugging. “He was too overbearing. She wanted some time to herself. Also, as my right-hand, Chaol is crucial to diplomatic missions such as this.”

 

Aedion throws his hands up. “There’s nothing diplomatic about this! You’re just mooching off my younger cousin for a free holiday!”

 

“Right,” a wicked grin spreads across Dorian’s face, “and by the way, since we’re on the topic of ‘younger,’ were you just a cub?”

 

Everyone gives the same wicked grins as Aedion scowls, deeply. “I’m not discussing this.”

 

“I’m not going to lie,” Dorian hums as he and Chaol follow the group, “you have become significantly less intimidating lately.”

 

The look Aedion gives the king, one of pure indignation and horror, causes Gavriel to have to clamp his mouth shut and turn away lest he starts bellowing. It doesn’t take long for them to reach the meeting room, Chaol, Dorian and Aedion snapping at each other the entire way as they do so. they and Lysandra go in the room alone, Gavriel and his brother’s waiting outside. Apparently, even they can’t be trusted with the magnificent birthday details.

Although, considering the fact Rowan has already asked Gavriel for details five times, the lack of knowledge may be wise.

 

“Aedion gets along well with those boys,” Heiral comments lightly, leaning against the wall.

 

“He’ll never admit it,” Gavriel agrees, softening at the laughter that erupts from inside before hardening again. “Now, why are you two really here?”

 

“Well, we love you too,” Marco mutters and glares.

 

“Believe it or not,” Heiral scowls, “we really did miss you all those years. And we’re both not getting any younger, so we decided to see our nephew and brother again before we pass on. But if you’d rather that we didn’t, that we stay away and you only is it for our funerals, then we’d be happy to comply.”

 

“Oh, for the love of… Fine. Just please send a letter or something? You can’t just keeping popping up. It isn’t good for my heart.”

 

“He says as though he isn’t the youngest of the three of us,” Marco snorts.

 

Gavriel eyes his brother. “You’re crabbier than usually.”

 

Heiral winces. “He and Leo got into a fight.”

 

Gavriel pivoted to his brother, eyes wide. “You fought?”

 

Marco scowls. “What happens between my husband and I is my business.”

 

“He is aware at the fact that you’re in another continent, right? Marco, tell me you didn’t just run away.”

 

“What?” Marco chokes. “Good gods, of course not! What kind of a male did you take me for? This trip was pre-planned, and we decided some space would be good to clear our heads.”

 

“Good,” Gavriel resists the urge to scowl, instead nodding. “You’re too good of a couple to seperate.”

 

Heiral flicks his brows up. “You’re spending too much time with young people.”

 

“I’m worried that may just be the case,” Gavriel can’t fight back the smile that appears on his face.

 

“We can hear you!” Aedion’s voice calls out.

 

“And I can hear that Elide is in charge of the cake!” Gavriel calls back.

 

The door opens, and Aedion’s head sticks out, a scowl firmly in place. “Go take your fae-hearing somewhere else. Explore the city or something.”

 

Gavriel shakes his head. “My father would have made me sleep outside for such disrespect.”

 

Aedion raises a brow slowly. “Really? Pulling the strict grand-father move?”

 

“Only thing that seems to work.”

 

“Fine. Would you like to enjoy an evening out in the city?”

 

“Much better,” Gavriel shoos Marco and Heiral away. “Let’s go.”

 

“I see you’re improving his manners,” Heiral grins at Aedion over his shoulder, fully aware the demi-fae can hear him

 

Aedion holds up a single finger as they leave.

 

~~~

 

“So,” Lysandra purrs, her front pressed close against Aedion’s, “we haven’t had some alone time in a while.”

 

“No,” Aedion smiles against her mouth, hands wrapping around her waist. “We haven’t. But could you maybe let me move from the door first?”

 

“I like taking you against walls,” Lysandra mutters, yet relents and moves back a step.

 

“Oh, I know,” Aedion grins at her as he slips off his jacket, tracking her movement as she gracefully sits on the bed, “but while we’re in Elide’s castle I’d hate for someone out in the hallway to hear us.”

 

“That’s happening either way.”

 

“True. Are you excited about seeing Caraverre tomorrow?”

 

Lysandra hesitates, laying on her side and winding her hands in his hair as he copies her movement. “Yes and no.”

 

Aedion’s brows furrow, and he presses his cheek further into her hand, his own palms sliding over her hips. “No?”

 

“No,” Lysandra noses his collarbones. “I am excited, very. I just… I have no idea what to do with the land.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Ah?” She pulls back, a brow raised. “That’s it? No grand suggestions?”

 

Aedion shrugs as well as he can while lying on his side. “I’ve been to the land. In the mountains with plenty of wilderness, left mainly empty and filled with snow in the winter. Snow leopards thrive in the environment, along with other creatures. To build a city or even town there could create some trading opportunities.”

 

“Right,” Lysandra’s mouth tightens. “But a town can grow into a city, a city into surrounding town and settlements.”

 

“And?”

 

“And you need to clear land to build space for people. You need to cut down habitats.”

 

Aedion releases a breath. “Right. That’s never had to be considered before, not with the fact that the land is mainly unused. It’s small, so perhaps only a small, central settlement?”

 

Lysandra nods slowly. “That could work. A single main building, perhaps some barracks, make it a station more than anything,” her eyes cut to Aedion’s, as green as the wilderness they speak of and just as untameable. “We could mainly stay in Orynth.”

 

“What?” Aedion frowns, propping himself up on one elbow. “But all you speak of is living in Caraverre. the wilderness, the animals, the fact that it will be _ours_ to live in freely.”

 

“I know,” Lysandra moves to sit against the headboard, “but would you be alright living like that?”

 

“Of course.”

 

She cuts him a dry look. “You’re quite a social person, contrary to your belief. You spend more time with the Bane more than anything.”

 

Aedion purses his lips. “We’re still trying to find places to settle over half of them. Not many know what to do now that the war is over. Kyllian’s been helping me direct a number of them, but Orynth doesn’t give them many options with the already high population.”

 

Lysandra gives no answer, prompting Aedion to look over at her. The shifter’s eyes are alight, a smile dappling across her face.

 

“I feel like I’ve missed something,” Aedion says slowly.

 

“Get up,” Lysandra springs from the bed. “We’re going to see something in Caraverre.”

 

Aedion’s eyes widen, yet an excited grin spreads across his face as he stands and shrugs on his jacket. “Now?”

 

“Yes,” Lysandra grins back. “Everyone’s asleep, and we should be able to get back before they miss us.”

 

“How?” Aedion demands, tying his shoes. “It’ll take at least a day to walk there.”

 

“Ah,” Lysandra’s eyes spark, “but much less for a wyvern.”

 

~~~

 

“See?” Lysandra stalks through the forest, gesturing out a large piece of land overgrown by greenery, a river nearby. “We could build a main building right here, a few accommodations for the Bane to live in, barracks and stables to the left a little closer to the river when we have non-permanent residents staying-“

 

“Lysandra,” Aedion grabs hold of her arm, turning her around to face him. “Lysandra, Lysandra what are you saying?”

 

They both stand there, the moon large and silver over their heads, the sounds of the animals clear in the distance as a fine dew-like mist settles over the greenery. The moss growing thickly on trees lightens the darkened bark, glowing insects flying above their heads to join the stars. Gold and silver, they look like, silhouetted against the light of the night sky. Yet both equally scarred and bruised, both made by the very mountains they’re standing on, both formed from blood and sweat and the unbreakable souls that they contain.

 

“It doesn’t need to be big,” Lysandra swallows, balling her hands against his chest. “Just a place for the wild people.”

 

“Wild people?”

 

“Bastards, warriors, whores,” Lysandra sucks in a deep, shuddering breath. “People who are disrespected and turned away. Demi-fae, the challenged. This could be a place for them, and who better to oversee everything than us?”

 

Aedion swallows thickly, eyes rimmed with silver. “Us.”

 

“Us,” Lysandra places a hand over his heart. “Gavriel can visit and help direct the settlement along with Kyllian. It’s not too far from Orynth so seeing Aelin and Rowan should be easy. People like your mother, people who need to escape the larger places after being discarded or scorned, can come here and find sanctuary.”

 

She feels Aedion’s rattled breath under her hand as it courses through his chest, her own tears flowing as she wipes away one of his own. Both their bodies shudder as they lean against one another, finally seeing what they may be able to build.

 

A chance. A chance they never had but could offer others.

 

“Lysandra,” Aedion’s voice remains hoarse. “The clearing of the land, or habitats-“

 

“Doesn’t need to happen,” Lysandra whispers back. “We can work our way around it. It doesn’t need to be big, it just needs to be _ours_.”

 

He engulfs her in his arms, pressing her close as her hands bury themselves in his hair and his arms tighten around her torso, her breath arm and sweet on his lips. It doesn’t take much for them to end up staring at the sky together, propped against a thick tree trunk as the black bleeds into purples, pinks and oranges.

They’ll make it clear in the laws that Caraverre will be a wild place, a place not meant to overstep it’s boundaries, a place that must accept all. Of course, everything will need to be clearly recorded so that no future lord or lady can change the small haven they’ve created. Can warp it into something ugly and caging.

 

They’ll scribble it in the very laws of the kingdom itself.

 

They’ll make murals of it in Orynth for all to remember.

 

They’ll carve it into the very sky if they have to.

 

They’ll protect what is their’s.

 

~~~

 

“Have you checked everywhere?” Gavriel growls, grabbing Marco by the front of his shirt to pull his brother closer. “Everywhere?”

 

Marco swallows, slowly unpicking Gavriel’s fingers from his shirt. “You know, I get the feeling that those two don’t disappear often.”

 

Gavriel’s glare says it all.

 

“They’re probably just out together,” Dorian holds up his hands. “It’s fine.”

 

Growling, Gavriel goes back to pacing the dining room, everyone watching from the table. “They’ve been missing since last night! Sun down is in an hour!”

 

“Your Majesty,” Heiral whispers to Dorian, bowing his head as Gavriel continues to rant, “it’s a pleasure and an honour.”

 

“Please,” Dorian waves away the title. “You’re Aedion’s uncle, just call me Dorian.”

 

“Uncles,” Chaol mutters to his plate, brows bunched and face still pale. “There’s more of them.”

 

“How delightful,” Manon murmurs sourly, in agreement.

 

“Where the hell could they be?” Gavriel snaps, drawing back their attention. “What if they were taken?”

 

Elide draws her brows together, placing down her fork from where she sits at the head of the table. “I don’t really think it would be that easy for someone to abduct them in the middle of the night without raising the alarms. Maybe they went out and stayed at an inn for the night?”

 

Gavriel continues to growl lowly under his breath, Lorcan glaring at him as he does so. “Stop it. They’re gods damn adults, they can handle themselves.”

 

Cutting them all a look, Gavriel stops his pacing. “None of you are even the least bit concerned that no one has any idea where they are, and that they’ve been missing for over a full day?”

 

They all look away, unable to answer. Manon, however, simply snorts and shakes her head.

 

“Right,” Gavriel mutters, and stalks out of the room.

 

“I’ve never seen him this rattled,” Heiral hums, watching the door close. “Although we should start looking for them.”

 

Elide sags in her seat, pale. “I’ve had people looking for the last three hours. No one knows where they are; we’re just trying to contain the panic at this point.”

 

“Shit,” Chaol mutters, standing. “Something really could have happened. Maybe we should all go look.”

 

“It would cause Gavriel and others to panic,” Lorcan muses.

 

“Better than doing nothing,” Dorian shrugs, standing along with Chaol. “We’ll check around the estate, play off that it’s just us looking around.”

 

“You’re all overreacting,” Manon scowls from besides Elide. “They’re probably fine. Just give it another hour before you start running around like idiots.”

 

Silently, they all go back to eating, a thick tension hanging in the air.

 

~~~

 

“Three hours since dinner!” Gavriel snaps, storming through the door. “Three hours! It’s nearly midnight!”

 

Elide paces at the end of the table, everyone else finally looking just as concerned.

 

“We couldn’t find them anywhere,” Dorian links his hands together, eyes dark.

 

“Nobody knew where they were,” Chaol shakes his head. “We asked as discretely as we could yet gained no answers and people may be beginning to suspect.”

 

“Abraxos and I saw nothing in the skies,” Manon leans back in her chair, arms crossed. “We may need to take action. Are you willing to hunt, princeling?”

 

“I think you’ll find I’m a king now,” Dorian purrs back, “but of course.”

 

Everyone pretends not to notice Chaol’s pale complexion as Manon flashes her teeth. The poor man received enough of a shock first learning about the witch; teasing him can come much later when his heart settles.

 

“You could all check the stables.”

 

“We could check again,” Elide bites at her fingernails, “but it’s unlikely that’s where they would go.”

 

“Or the kitchen? I would have thought you’d at least check there.”

 

“Trust me when I say I’ve checked there continually,” Gavriel rubs at his face sagging in his chair. “Aedion, if you’re going to make no helpful contributions then-“

 

Gavriel freezes, along with everyone else in the room, and looks up to the doorway. Lysandra and Aedion, dirtied yet smiling as widely as they ever had with their hands clasped between them, stares back at everyone. At once everyone in the room seems to release a sigh, sagging into their seats, with the exception of Manon who simply looks away from them dismissively.

 

“Where were you?” Elide blinks, face slack with relief.

 

“Caraverre,” Aedion grins, nudging Lysandra, who smirks and nudges him back. “We fell asleep there. Sorry for being late.”

 

“You went to Caraverre?” Gavriel places a hand flat on the table, leaning forward.

 

“Lysandra flew us,” Aedion shrugs.

 

A muscle flickers in the Lion’s jaw, and Gavriel stands abruptly, his chair pushing back behind him. Lysandra winces at the way Aedion’s hand suddenly tightens in shock at the movement, the only sign of a flinch that will be given.

 

“We all may just…” Elide makes a gesture towards the door, Lorcan quickly rushing her out of it, Chaol, Dorian and Manon already nowhere to be seen, Aedion’s uncles long gone.

 

Lysandra herself wouldn’t mind turning into a small animal and escaping the tense situation.

 

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Gavriel growls, his voice broken by the vicious sound. “Good gods, Aedion, didn’t you even _think_ to tell someone that you would both be leaving? We searched for you two all day and night. It’s nearly sunrise!”

 

“You disappeared for over a day,” Aedion scowls, and Lysandra winces at his choice of words, knowing more conflict has been sparked. “Us leaving for a single day to see our own land isn’t much different.”

 

Gavriel stares at his son. Ignoring the uncomfortable itch that his father’s gaze gives him, Aedion stands his ground, staring right back while trying to loosen his grip on Lysandra’s hand.

 

“I see,” Gavriel grits his teeth, his eyes flashing in such a way that Aedion nearly feels his knees buckle from the predatory gaze. “So you decided to leave in the middle of the night, while we’re on a trip, with no explanation to go see your land?”

 

Swallowing, Aedion gives a single nod, and feels his very body tighten as Gavriel stalks closer to him, prepared to step in front of Lysandra if need be. He knows he doesn’t need to, knows that it’s an appalling thing to expect, but he’s allowed it to happen before.

 

He’s stood in place before, putting faith in the person walking towards him with the same look his father holds now. He knows Gavriel is nothing like those males, but he can’t help but see them in that anger.

 

“Right,” Gavriel bares his teeth, more livid than Aedion has ever seen him. “Then next time you visit your land, make no hurry to come back.”

 

The door slams loudly behind him, the very hinges rattling, threatening to tear off. They hear Gavriel roar on the other side of the door, and the quick footsteps of someone scampering away. Aedion jumps at the sound that emits from right behind him and closes his eyes.

 

Lysandra wipes her shaking, sweaty palms on her dress, trying to muster a smile. “Well, maybe we could leave a note next time.”

 

She means to reach out for his hand again, but as soon as she touches it she realises that it’s trembling, that Aedion’s entire body is being rocked with small tremors, his chest rising and falling in an unsteady pattern.

 

“Aedion,” Lysandra says softly, leading him to a couch against one wall. “It’s alright, sit.”

 

He does so, Lysandra immediately sitting next to him and allowing Aedion to lean into her warmth with an arm wrapped around his waist.

 

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely, hands clenched in his lap, trembling, as he heaves every breath. “I-“

 

“Just breath,” Lysandra interrupts, tightening her grip on him, glad when he leans into her side. “It’s alright, Aedion, just try to breath with me alright?”

 

He nods, closed eyes doing nothing to prevent the tears that drop down his cheeks. Lysandra swallows thickly, her chest tight an aching, as she reaches forward to wipe one away.

 

“I’ve never seen you cry twice within so little time,” she attempts at humour.

 

It gains a hiccuping laugh. “It’s been a big twenty-four hours, and you’re the only female that can bring me to my knees.”

 

“Well, obviously,” Lysandra attempts to keep her voice light, glad for the small piece of humour. “You look quite pretty when you are.”

 

That gains another choking laugh, an accomplishment even if Aedion has to immediately try to rein in air once again. She moves her hand to rub at his back as he does so, her heart twisting as he places his head in his hands. After a few moments, after he finally regains a steady pattern with his lungs, Aedion removes his head from his hands and leans back, his eyes closed as he exhaustedly breathes. Wincing at his flushed cheeks, at his new dishevelled state, Lysandra reaches forward to wipe any remaining moisture from his face.

 

It’s no surprise when he tilts his head to kiss her palm. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Never be sorry,” Lysandra says softly, leaning against his side as he leans against hers. “Would you ever expect me to apologise when I panic?”

 

“Of course not,” Aedion sighs, closing his eyes once more. “But you know.”

 

“I know,” Lysandra swallows her own emotions. “There is no part of you that I will ever run from, Aedion. Just as how you have never ran from me.”

 

“Never,” Aedion repeats with surety, as if it’s a simple fact, linking her hand with his once again. “I’m sorry such a wonderful day has been spoilt.”

 

“Technically, it was a wonderful night, so we’re good,” Lysandra kisses his cheek. “I’ll get you some water.”

 

He insists against it, but she rises and fills two empty glasses with the clear liquid. She raises a brow as he drinks his entire cup within a second, and rolls her eyes. It earns her a small nudge in the side.

 

“He was pissed,” Aedion says softly, tightening his hands around the glass.

 

Hesitating, Lysandra places her own glass down. “He didn’t mean what he said, Aedion. And he wasn’t going to hit you.”

 

His eyes cut towards her. “I know.”

 

“He really wasn’t,” Lysandra places a hand on his arm. “Remember when that woman tried to do my makeup and I broke her rib?”

 

“I was proud of that,” Aedion mutters, then catches her glare. “Of how well you broke her rib! Not that she was actually injured.”

 

“I know,” Lysandra shakes her head, bemused. “But my point is that we both have fears, both have triggers, that can bring us to panic. We can make ourselves be prepared for something we assume may happen. I saw you, Aedion. You were ready to step in front of me, and you looked _terrified_.”

 

He gives no answer, staring at the glass in his hands.

 

“Sometimes we can’t help but fear,” Lysandra whispers, her curtain of black hair spilling over her shoulder. “There’s no shame in that, Aedion. You’ve never shamed me.”

 

“Of course not,” he curls his hand around hers, eyes soft as he bows his head.

 

“Exactly,” Lysandra squeezes his palm. “We’ll go to bed and sleep. You can then talk to Gavriel in the morning.”

 

Aedion closes his mouth, then opens it again, throat bobbing. “What if…”

 

She squeezes his hand in encouragement.

 

“What if he doesn’t want to talk?” Aedion says quietly, trying to still his lips from trembling. “He- he said-“

 

“Aedion,” Lysandra softens, cupping his hands in her own.

 

“He said not to hurry back,” Aedion’s voice comes through strained, desperate. “If he doesn’t want me to come back then, then that means-“

 

“Aedion,” Lysandra drops her voice to a soothing tone. “Gavriel is not going to disown you.”

 

She winces at the tears that spring to his eyes at the word, at the way that he sucks in another large, rattling breath to calm himself.

 

“He’s not,” Lysandra soothes. “You know he’s not. You wouldn’t disown you over something like this.”

 

“But he was so angry,” Aedion whispers.

 

“Gavriel is one of the most patient males there are,” Lysandra kisses his cheek. “We’re both tired and exhausted, which is probably why you’re so emotional.”

 

“I’m not-“

 

“Don’t deny it,” Lysandra rolls her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with being emotional, I was terrified too. Now, let’s go to bed.”

 

Sighing, he nods, and dutifully follows her to their room. He dumps his head in the sink as soon as he can to cool off the heat of his skin, bathing quickly before collapsing on the bed. Lysandra follows after him, dressed in a gown and smelling of lavender after taking a much more thorough sleeping routine besides just dumping her body in water.

 

“Thank you,” Aedion says softly, pulling her close in the darkness. “I’m glad we are together.”

 

Lysandra kisses a bare part of his shoulder. “We belong to each other, no one else.”

 

“No one else,” Aedion agrees, softly closing his eyes.

 

~~~

 

“Well,” Heiral claps Aedion on the shoulder, “this was fun, but we’re leaving.”

 

Aedion blinks, eyes bleary form sleep, at his two fully-dressed uncles. “I- You what?”

 

“We decided to forfeit a visit to Orynth,” Heiral waves a hand. “We’ve already told Gavriel we’re leaving, we just wanted to stop by and say farewell to you.”

 

Aedion blinks once again. “You’re leaving? Now?”

 

“Yes,” Heiral leans forward, and gestures to Marco. “He misses Leo.”

 

“Heiral!” Marco snaps, but makes no move to deny it.

 

“Alright,” Heiral rolls his eyes and straightens. “We need to head home to complete our duties anyway. Say hello to Aelin for us.”

 

“I will,” Aedion sighs, and accepts a hug from the both of them.

 

“Goodbye, Lysandra!” Heiral calls into the room.

 

He receives an answering noise.

 

“She’s tired,” Aedion says by way of explanation.

 

“Right,” Marco nods, “give her our pardons.”

 

Aedion watches them walk down the hallway and out of sight. He closes the door, promptly turning around and collapsing back into bed.

 

You’d think they’d find a better time to leave than four in the morning.

 

~~~

 

The trip back is frosty. Cold. They bid farewell to Chaol, Dorian and Manon the same time they parted with Elide and Lorcan, watching the three of them fly away before finalising plans with Elide.

 

The cake will be ridiculous. Magnificent, but ridiculously magnificent. 

 

Of course, as soon as they enter the throne room, everyone senses their chilling aura.

 

“There you are,” Aelin scowls at them. “What took so long?”

 

“Nothing,” Aedion shakes his head, the same time Gavriel says “Aedion and Lysandra went missing for two days.”

 

Aelin’s eyes flick over to the two in question, eyes lit with worry. “What happened?”

 

“We just visited Caraverre,” Aedion explains through clenched teeth.

 

“Fantastic,” Aelin scowls. “Since you’re the reason the cake date is late, you can help set up the decorations.”

 

Aedion blanches. “I am not hanging up over a hundred streamers around the castle.”

 

“I agree with Aelin,” Gavriel voice pierces through the room.

 

Aedion gapes, hurt flashing in his eyes, while Aelin simply smirks and leans back, oblivious to the prior events.

 

“You’re agreeing with her?” Aedion growls. “You’re taking her side over your son’s?”

 

Gavriel immediately sends him an aggravated look. “I’m agreeing with her that since you aided in us being late, you should own up and decorate the hall, yes.”

 

“I can’t believe this,” Aedion shakes his head, lips pulled back in a snarl. “Thank you, so much, for taking her side instead of your son’s just because you’re pissed at something that even you did only a few weeks ago!”

 

Spinning around, Aedion storms out the hall, the door slamming shut behind him. A chilling silence follows, Aelin staring, pale faced, as she begins to think through reasons as to why such an outcome may have occurred. Gavriel simply walks out the other door, looking just as infuriated.

 

“I…” Aelin hesitates, looking to Lysandra, who simply slowly shakes her head while pinching the bridge of her nose. “Did I miss something?”

 

~~~

 

Sighing, Gavriel walks down the halls, Aedion’s words echoing in his head. He’d been rash, pushed by his emotions in a way he hasn’t allowed for centuries. And above all else, he sided with Aelin over Aedion. Yes, Aelin is their queen, but for Gavriel to plaintively agree with her over something so trivial that he could have easily sided with Aedion on? It’s more of a betrayal, his showing of anger, than anything.

And he dragged Lysandra right into the middle of it. To think he’d be insensitive enough to forget about her, to speak to her the way he did. Something sick rolls in his stomach as he remembers it, as he goes over the tone of his voice.

It’s just been so damn hard lately, to keep everything in check. Everything is so different now- he actually has something to care about and protect, other than just mindlessly follow orders.

And when that thing disappears, he apparently overreacts.

A fact that he is now ashamed to admit.

 

So he troops through the palace, heading for the dining halls where Aelin said Lysandra would be. He’ll apologise to her first; Aedion will be a different conversation.

 

“Lysandra,” Gavriel winces as he approaches her, Lysandra looking up from where she eats. “I’d like to apologise for my behaviour yesterday and at Perranth. It was uncalled for to treat and speak to you like that. I can’t apologise enough, I swear to try to redeem myself through my actions as time goes on to hopefully regain your forgiveness.”

 

Staring, Lysandra places her pastry back on the plate. “Why can’t all males be like you?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Nothing,” Lysandra quickly wipes at her mouth. “And it’s fine, I knew that it came from fear more than anything.”

 

“It’s no excuse,” Gavriel shakes his head, sitting in the chair besides her.

 

“No,” Lysandra purses her lips. “You need to learn how to control your protectiveness. But more than anything, I think you need to realise how it affects Aedion.”

 

“He must be mad-“

 

“He panicked, Gavriel.”

 

Startled, he blinks. “What?”

 

Clasping her hands together, face grave and stern, Lysandra turns to face him. “He had an attack, as soon as you barged past him and slammed the door. I don’t think you may realise this, but neither of us have good history with… violent guardians.”

 

Pain radiating through his body, Gavriel closes his eyes. “When I-“

 

“And the fact that you agreed with Aelin,” Lysandra sips her drink, “was just the icing on the cake. What you said to Aedion harmed him deeply.”

 

“Do you know where he is?” Gavriel asks quietly, fully expecting a denial to the information.

 

“In our room,” Lysandra says, surprising him. “Go and talk to him; let him know that you’re not throwing him away.”

 

“Why would I throw-“

 

“You chose bad words, Gavriel, when you were angry. Go and talk.”

 

~~~

 

“Aedion?” Gavriel winces as he knocks on the door and silence follows.

 

He knows his son is in there, he can smell his scent.

And it doesn’t make it any better when Aedion opens the door, looking fine if not for the fact that Gavriel can see his signs of anxiety in the way he crosses his arms, gripping his left biceps dangerously tight.

 

“I would like it if we could talk?” Gavriel probes gently.

 

Aedion simply leans against the doorframe. “So talk.”

 

Sucking in a deep breath, Gavriel repeats the words he’s been going over in his head for the last few hours. “The way I treated you was appalling. I’m so, so sorry, Aedion, for any panic or shock that I may have caused you. I let my fear and overprotectiveness to run out of hand, and I swear that I will try to measure myself onwards. Please know that I would never hurt you, or truly want you to not come back.”

 

He can feel sweat trickle down his back as Aedion simply flicks his eyes up and down, assessing his father, before shrugging. “Great. See you later.”

 

Gavriel moves forward, grabbing the door before Aedion can close it fully. “Aedion-“

 

In one strong movement, Aedion flings the door open, eyes ablaze as he leans forward. “You said sorry, great. Now I have work to do.”

 

“We need to talk-“

 

“No we fucking don’t!” Aedion’s voice roars down the hallway, and Gavriel resists taking a step back. “I just- shit- you apologised! Great! I mean, it’s not like I never got angry!”

 

“Aedion-“

 

“It’s not like I never told anyone not to come back!”

 

Something cracks. “Son-“

 

“It’s not like I went off my head at you when you disappeared for three days after I had to admit to one of the most hardest parts of my life in front of five of the greatest warriors I’ve ever known! It’s not like I could have used you through those following days while you just left!”

 

Feeling his throat tear, Gavriel sucks in a shaking breath. “I would never-“

 

“I know!” Aedion trembles with rage, yet sags against the doorframe. “I know you would never leave, never abandon me. But you…”

 

“I hurt you,” Gavriel forces the words out, nearly choking on them.

 

Aedion looks away, shrugging, looking close to denying it. The very fact he doesn’t, the very fact he’s been pushed far enough to drop the facade, is more alarming than anything.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel can barely raise his voice, barely steady his hands, “I swear I will work to regain your trust.”

 

“Right,” Aedion swallows. “You didn’t hurt me.”

 

Gavriel stops, confusion flashing across his face. “Than wh-“

 

“You scared me,” Aedion strangles the words out, making an unpleasant face as though he’s been forced to swallow poison.

 

A dangerous kind of quiet settles over Gavriel. “I scared… Oh my gods, Aedion, cub, I-“

 

“It’s fine,” Aedion goes to close the door again, voice just as choked and strained as before. “I’ll be fine. I know you wouldn’t… It’s just hard, sometimes, to forget that you’re… That you’re not like…”

 

“I know,” Gavriel whispers, keeping his hands by his side instead of reaching for his son.

 

“Please just give me some time,” Aedion rubs at his face. “Than we can talk as much as you want. I just… I just need to sit for a bit.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Aedion moves to close the door, yet hesitates, pausing to glance at Gavriel. “Could we… could we talk about something else? Or… You just talk, and I listen?”

 

Swallowing his relief, Gavriel nods ferociously. “Of course. Would you like to hear how I met your mother?”

 

Aedion hesitates, yet opens the door. “Maybe not now…”

 

“Than I’ll tell you another,” Gavriel steps into the room. “For as long as you need.”

 

It’s a start, to be allowed in his presence in a way so few people have done. The fact that Aedion still wishes for his presence, for his comfort, after what happened shows that not all is broken yet.

They just need to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! I tried to fit as many requests in here as possible! If I wasn't able to fit your request than it'll be in the next one, or if there's something you'd like added to the story, just let me know! I love requests so it's no bother what so ever!


	16. Crinkle, Crunkle, Crack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday parties, revenge and shock!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I love this fandom and writing this fic, the next chapter shouldn't be too far away!

20.

 

“This is utterly ridiculous,” Aedion scowls, leaning back against the couch of the most commonly used lounge room.

 

Gavriel sighs, sitting down opposite Aedion. “We really do need to talk, Aedion. Privacy would suit this kind of conversation better.”

 

“Shouldn’t we be helping Aelin set up Rowan’s birthday party?”

 

“I’ve got Fenrys, Vaughan and Lorcan all on damage control,” Gavriel deadpans. “Trust me when I say that after centuries of bullshit they owe me.”

 

At that Aedion smirks. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. Fenrys told me that you have the most material out of all of them.”

 

“I do,” Gavriel smiles his usual smile, the older version to Aedion’s. “But we should focus on what happened yesterday.”

 

“I’d rather really not.” And the shutters close once again.

 

Pausing, Gavriel considers his next words carefully. “Do you think a few months ago you would have admitted to me scarring you? Would you have done what you did a few days ago?”

 

Aedion says nothing, even though the answer is a definite ‘no.’

 

“Please,” Gavriel’s voice turns pleading, “can we just talk about it? Aedion, you honestly thought I was going to hit you out of anger. You need to know that I would never do that.”

 

“I know,” Aedion’s jaw clenches. “But there’s a difference between knowing and instinct.”

 

“There is,” Gavriel clasps his hands and leans forward, gaze firm. “But Aedion, I need to make it explicitly clear to you right now that no matter what happens, no matter how angry I may become, I will never use rage as an excuse to harm you. I will never down put you in such a way that I will make up excuses for causing you pain.”

 

“I _know_ that,” Aedion insists, growling. “You don’t need to state it like I’m some kind of child. I know. What exactly are you planning to get out of this? Disable reflexes that I’ve had for years? This all isn’t exactly something I can control, Gavriel. It’s not like helping me work through a single problem; I have no control over how my body panics.”

 

Sighing, Gavriel contemplates the problem. Maybe, at the very least, talking about some of his past experiences may help Aedion overcome a few small obstacles. Or Gavriel could gain a general idea of what to look out for, what triggers that need to be watched.

 

“Would you feel comfortable telling me why you have those kind of reactions?” Gavriel keeps his voice level, watching Aedion’s reactions.

 

It’s clear by how Aedion rolls his shoulders that it’s an uncomfortable subject. “People weren’t exactly nice to a bastard mix-breed Terrasen prince in the Adarlan war camps.”

 

Right. Of course they weren’t. What is the best way to approach this? How can they even begin to talk about something that’s so elaborate and tangled in Aedion’s past? Something that’s so stark and obvious that it’s there, leering at them, daring them to work out a way to try to fix the scars it has left?

 

“I’m better than I was before,” Aedion’s says softly, catching Gavriel’s attention. “I never… I don’t think I would have even let you touch me. Please trust _me_ when I say that just being here is helping.”

 

Gavriel blows out a breath. “I know. But is there anything I should watch out for? Anything you’ve particularly noticed that makes you panic?”

 

Aedion pauses, seeming to think for a moment. “How you talked to me? Just, the tone? Fuck, I’m not sure. I guess just anything that could lean towards violence, or phrases or sights that make me flashback.”

 

“Alright,” Gavriel nods. “We can think more about that later. Right now, everyone probably needs help getting the party ready.”

 

“Aelin knows that Rowan knows, right?”

 

“I don’t think that’s going to stop her.”

 

“Oh, definitely not. I just wanted to be clear about that.”

 

~~~

 

“Aedion!” Aelin scowls, marching over to him. “Place this table near the left wing! The left!”

 

“Yes, my oh-so-darling cousin,” he mutters, hefting the table up with a groaning Kyllian once again. “It’s not like half my army is here helping you set up a birthday party. Gods forbid we actually start planning our transition to Caraverre.”

 

“Lysandra, control your male,” Aelin rolls her eyes, calling up to the chirping bird in the rafters helping set up the streamers.

 

Streamers. Silver and green, hanging from the ceiling like a delicate net. It looks better than streamers have any right to be, but that’s the effect Aelin apparently has when it comes to throwing parties.

 

“I changed my mind,” she narrows her eyes at the layout of the room, crossing her arms. “Move those tables near the centre closer to the sides. We’re going to want plenty of room to dance, but also make sure they’re spaced out.”

 

Aedion drops the table, Kyllian doing the same and resting against it exhaustedly as Aedion scowls at his cousin. “Don’t you have other people to do this?”

 

Raising a single brow, Aelin adorns a pretty smile. “Remember that time when I thought you were cheating on Lysandra with a male bartender, only to find out that it was actually her pressing you up against a wall and about to-“

 

 _“Men, we’re moving the tables!_ ” Aedion immediately stands and bellows, ignoring the collective groans and complaints. “Move your asses, people! Move!”

 

Muttering under his breath, Kyllian grips the edge of the table, ready to lift once more. “It’s not as if I don’t know what you like, it’s not that much of a surprise-“

 

“Help me move this damn table or you’re not coming to Caraverre,” Aedion hisses at him, glancing at the warriors around them.

 

“You become a lord and you’re already thinking of banishing people,” Kyllian glares as they lift the table. “Lovely.”

 

“You two keep your lovers spat down,” Aelin snaps, ignoring their indignant chokes and Lysandra’s annoyed tweet. “I need to check on Elide. She had the plans of the cake ready and the bakers have been working on it, so it should be ready for tomorrow night.”

 

“Are you planning to hide in it or something?”

 

“Aedion, you are _this_ close to being thrown out of my kingdom.”

 

“Oh, no, please don’t spare me from moving tables,” Aedion huffs under his breath, Kyllian nodding gravely in agreement.

 

“Fine line, Aedion. Fine line.”

 

“ _This_ is what I spent centuries training for,” Fenrys scowls as he walks past her, holding a large box of decorations in his arms. “Vaughan! Lorcan! Fly down here and hang up more of these damn decorations!”

 

They both swoop dangerously close to Fenrys head, each snatching a decoration from the box before flying back up. Gavriel chuckles at everyone’s antics, holding Evangeline up on his shoulders as she fixes the silver ornaments hanging from one window.

 

“Done!” She says as soon as they’re straightened, and drops off Gavriel’s shoulders into his arms so that he puts her down.

 

“Be careful doing that,” Gavriel says as he places Evangeline on her feet. “One day I’ll be too old to catch you.”

 

“I know,” she grins. “That’s why I’m enjoying it now.”

 

Shaking his head in amusement, Gavriel watches as she skips towards one of the long tables laden with food, Evangeline being perhaps the only person Aelin doesn’t scold for eating treats before the party has started.

Then again, Aelin eats them too, particularly the tarts, so that’d be quite hypocritical.

 

“Years of service and it’s led to this,” Kyllian sighs, cracking his back after moving another table.

 

“I hear you, boyo,” Fenrys grumbles in agreement, slouching past him with a second box crammed in his arms.

 

“Less talking, more walking!”

 

Aedion sighs as Lysandra lands on his shoulder and nudges his cheek. “Yes, the talk went well. Think you could stop having fun flying in the rafters and come down to help us land creatures decorate?”

 

She nips at his ear, and it’s more than enough of an answer. Smirking, Aedion fixes a pot of flowers, Lysandra seemingly fine with staying perched on his shoulder and watching him work. It is nice, however, to have a good conversation with her as he does so.

 

“Can you really understand what she’s saying?” Fenrys asks, brows raised.

 

Aedion shrugs the shoulder Lysandra isn’t occupying. “It’s Lysandra.”

 

It earns him a cuddle against his neck, and he smiles at the way her feathers puff up proudly. After another few minutes she springs off his shoulder, flying back up to help Vaughan and Lorcan. It’s amusing, to watch the way the sparrow orders the great birds of prey.

 

“Aedion! Move the damn tables!”

 

The move to Caraverre can’t come fast enough if it means avoiding more gods-damned parties.

 

~~~

 

“What was it Aelin said you had?” Lysandra smirks as she leans over Aedion, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, mixing with Aedion’s gold locks on the red pillows. “A lovers spat?”

 

Looking up at her, Aedion does nothing to keep the grin off his face, highly aware of her legs on either side of his hips, both hands holding his wrists by his head. “It may have been. Who am I to say; it was a busy day.”

“I thought we agreed no more rhyming.”

 

“And I thought we agreed we’d run away for the birthday preparations, yet here we are.”

 

Chuckling, Lysandra leans down, brushing her lips against Aedion’s. He barely resists arching up into the touch, simply allowing Lysandra to take over and keep his hands pinned down, more than willing to let her be the one to take control. Gods know that she understands what to do when she does, leaving Aedion feeling as though he’s melted into the bed, all the stress and strain of being a leader melting away.

Only for the bedroom door to slam open, and two giant fae males surge through, only to freeze at the scene of the two people on the bed.

 

“Holy _shit_ this was a bad time-“

 

“Gods!” Aedion barks, head jerking up.

 

Lysandra snaps her head up to look at it as well, green eyes wide, seemingly stuck in place from shock. Fenrys and Vaughan look everywhere in the room but the two of them, a red hue entering everyone’s faces.

 

“What,” Aedion can’t keep the strain of anger from his voice, glad that Lysandra has his hands pinned or he’d be ripping out throats, “are you doing?’

 

Both the fae males hesitate, slowly inching back out of the door. They glance at each other and glare, having a silent battle as to who should speak. It looks as though Vaughan loses that battle when he sags.

 

“Aelin wanted to know why you put the tables-“

 

“Get out!” Aedion barks, and the two males flee. “Close the damn door!” The door shuts. “Leave you bastards!” They can hear them scrambling down the hallway.

 

Collapsing back against the pillows, Aedion closes his eyes and releases a long breath. Lysandra mutters about tables, loosening her grip on his wrists and sitting up properly momentarily.

 

“Are you alright?” Lysandra places a hand solidly on his chest. “Want to continue?”

 

“I can honestly say that this is the only thing that’s brought me even the smallest speck of pleasure all day,” Aedion places his hands on her waist.

 

“Good,” a gleam enters Lysandra’s eyes, and she leans forward. “Because I feel the same. I need to prove after Aelin’s little ‘lovers’ comment who you really belong to.”

 

“Of course, darling,” Aedion kisses her palm, a wicked smirk overtaking his own face.

 

~~~

 

“Aedion,” Fenrys says as a gruff greeting, not looking the prince in the eyes.

 

“Fenrys,” Aedion walks right past him, organising the chairs.

 

“I’m so, so sorry,” Vaughan mutters to Gavriel before ducking away, unable to look his brother-in-arms in the eye.

 

Gavriel blinks at them and the way they both turn away guiltily. “I really don’t understand. What happened?”

 

“You’re too good of a male to know.”

 

“Enough chatting!” Aelin huffs, stalking through the room. “We have two days to sort this out and I can’t keep Rowan locked in meetings forever!”

 

Aedion drops a box and throws his hands in the air. “Do you seriously think he doesn’t know about the part happening in the ballroom he walks past every single fucking day?”

 

“You think I’m above telling Gavriel all the bar stories you told me?” Aelin snaps back, stalking towards Aedion.

 

The Lion turns to his son and raises his brows in question, causing Aedion to sigh in defeat and pick up the box. Aelin stomps away, and as soon as she’s two meters away Lysandra releases a screech, her wings flapping, and Aedion turns, fully expecting to see her above his head.

Only for a glass window to shatter, an arrow spearing through the box in Aedion’s arms, aiming straight for his heart had he not turned.

Dropping the box once again, Aedion leaps over a table, turning it onto its side and bracing behind it. Everyone else in the room has followed suit, either dropping immediately to the floor or taking up residence behind a form of furniture. Lorcan and Elide have both also overturned a table of their own, Lorcan blocking Elide’s body with his own, even as she holds up a cake knife. Thank the gods other royal guests only arrive tomorrow, or the panic would be uncontrollable.

Both Lysandra and Aedion release a breath of relief when they spot Gavriel on the other side of the room, under a table and completely covering Evangeline’s body with his own, keeping her pressed against the floor as his eyes anxiously search for Aedion. They soften in relief once they land on him, then turn alight as he swivels his head to stare out the window.

It doesn’t help that shouts are being heard on the other side of the room’s doors, the large wooden structures blowing open with the aid of arctic wind.

 

“What the hell?” Rowan roars, stalking into the room.

 

“Dammit,” Aelin mutters, just a glass ornament drops from the wall behind her and shatters.

 

~~~

 

“Aelin, you knew I knew,” Rowan scowls. “Why are you so upset about the party?”

 

“It’s the principle of the matter!” Aelin scowls, crossing her arms. “I didn’t know someone was going to try to assassinate Aedion. It ruins the plans.”

 

“I’m so sorry for the inconvenience,” Aedion glares from where he sits at the long table in the meeting room.

 

“Who would do something like this?” Lysandra peers at the arrow in the centre of the table. “Actually, don’t answer that, there’s too many possibilities. The healers detected some kind of poison on the end, toxic to particularly demi-fae, so they must have been targeting Aedion.”

 

“Smith-berry juice on a wooden ash arrow,” Gavriel murmurs, inspecting the arrow. “Fae have a particular weakness to the ash wood for some unknown reason, it slows our healing process, and smith-berries are deadly to humans. It would have been enough to kill you before we managed to get you an antidote or for your healing factor repaired itself.”

 

“We have guards covering all perimeters,” Fenrys states, his own arms crossed, eyes dark. “Lorcan and Vaughan are watching the skies.”

 

“We should send everyone messages,” Rowan decides. “Tell them not to come. Whoever this is may be planning an assassination since so many political figures will be in the same place at once.”

 

“No,” Gavriel swallows, pale faced, as he rubs his thumb over the arrow. “They aren’t here for that.”

 

“What do you mean?” Aelin leans forward, eyes ablaze.

 

Holding up the arrow, Gavriel shows the engraving of an arch with three circles held inside of it. “This is the crest of one of my old enemies. I doubt that they’re here for anything else other than revenge.”

 

“Damn it,” Fenrys narrows his eyes to the engraving. “I thought we were past all of this.”

 

“Who?” Aelin snaps, everyone leaning forward. “What enemy?”

 

“An old fae that I tangled with about twenty years ago,” Gavriel sags back in his seat. “We have an… unpleasant history.”

 

Fenrys snorts, and Rowan glares.

 

“Fine, more than unpleasant,” Gavriel concedes, sighing as he places back down the arrow. “She’s out for my blood, or at the very least to make me suffer.”

 

“She?” Lysandra repeats.

 

“Silvia Casant,” Gavriel winces as he says the name. “The once-was lady of a very rich land. She still has her followers and influence.”

 

“What did she do to you?” Aedion asks, brows furrowed in concern.

 

Fenrys barks a laugh. “Oh, boyo, it's not what she did to Gavriel, but rather-“

 

“Thank you, Fenrys,” Gavriel snaps. “It’s not important; what matters is that she’s clearly targeting Aedion as an attempt to claim revenge.”

 

“There is no greater suffering than a fae losing a child,” Vaughan nods, eyes darkening. “Our offspring are rare and greatly treasured; not to mention that you are Gavriel’s only heir. To kill you would also a major offence in fae terms, as well as being emotionally crippling.”

 

“Well,” Aedion mutters, “that’s wonderful. Thank you.”

 

“Right,” Aelin rubs at her eyes. “You all know her. What precautions should be take? It’s too late to tell people not to come now, they’re already travelling and the messages will never get to them in time.”

 

“Double security,” Rowan says decisively. “We keep a strict guest list, and make sure that every person of even the smallest status is under surveillance. We keep Vaughan and Lorcan on watch in the skies in case she’s accompanied by fae. Elide, when if Manon arriving with Dorian?”

 

She straightens in her chair, dark eyes gleaming as she taps her fingernails against the table. “Tomorrow, along with Dorian, Chaol and Yrene and their child. If this woman is after Aedion to get to Gavriel, then why not give her what she wants?”

 

“We are not placing Aedion up on a pedestal to be snatched,” Gavriel immediately places an arm out in front of his son which Aedion looks down at lazily, obviously not concerned about the situation.

 

It’s honestly not the first time someone’s tried to assassinate him. He’ll have to talk to Gavriel about not being so stressed every time it happens.

 

“Not Aedion,” Elide settles her keen eyes on Gavriel. “You.”

 

Silence rings out.

 

“What?” Fenrys frowns.

 

“The only reason she’s going after Aedion is because she believes he’s an opening to hurt Gavriel,” Elide points to the fae in question, “but what if she didn’t need Aedion to get to him? What if, during the middle of a party, Gavriel stepped out to the balcony for a breath of fresh air after a drink, making him the perfect target?”

 

“And then?” Aelin leans forward in interest, linking her hands.

 

“Lorcan, Rowan and Vaughan will be watching in the air,” Elide waves a hand above her head. “No one will question the king's absence if he steps out of the room with his queen halfway through the party, both laughing and close. While that occurs Lysandra and Aedion can continue dancing inside with Fenrys and I to draw away attention to what we’re planning. We can inform everyone else of the plan as soon as they arrive, and ask that they continue to dance with us as well to mask the disappearance of a few of us.”

 

“That could work,” Vaughan mutters, examining the arrow. “It’s most likely that Silvia is on her own since this is such a personal grudge.”

 

Aedion scowls at his father. “What the hell did you do to her?”

 

“Nothing-“

 

“He left her at the altar,” Fenrys picks at his nails, holding his hand out in front of him to admire them.

 

“I’m sorry, you _what?_ ” Aedion chokes, whirling to look at Gavriel, who flushes a bright red and looks away.

 

“I am not proud of it!” Gavriel barks, still flushed, bracing a single arm on the table as he looks away from everyone’s stares. “Maeve ordered me to marry her, to help connect social ties, but she later decided that she didn’t want me to right in the middle of the wedding so…”

 

“So as soon as I told him he ran out of the church,” Vaughan muttered. “I’ve never seen a male haul ass that fast.”

 

“I never had a choice in the engagement!” Gavriel says in his defence, wincing at everyone’s disbelieving looks. “We got along well but there was never an urge to marry between us! Besides, I had another female on my mind at the time, as many of you are aware.”

 

“Don’t try to use my mother to get out of this!” Aedion scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Did you even apologies?”

 

“Of course I did!“ Gavriel suddenly pales, his hands going slack. “Assuming she received the letter…”

 

“Seriously, Gavriel-”

 

“Oh my gods, this is why-“

 

“Fuck everything at this point-“

 

“You were supposed to be one of the good ones-“

 

“I’m sorry!” Gavriel throws his hands up, much like Aedion had done. “I wrote her a long, heartfelt letter! Either she didn’t get it or that wasn’t enough, either way I’m going to apologies to her.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Aedion sits up straight. “You want to talk and apologies to the psycho who tried to kill your son? Where was this control when we needed it last week!”

 

Gavriel winces once more. “I’ve wronged her. I need to compensate for my actions.”

 

“Gods dammit,” Aelin mutters, placing her head back in her hands. “Alright, we go through with Elide’s plan, but we give Gavriel a chance to talk to her before we intervene.”

 

Everyone nods and murmurs in agreement, standing.

“We’ll stay on alert tonight,” Lysandra squeezes Aedion’s hand under the table. “We all should.”

 

Agreeing, everyone leaves the room with cautious eyes.

 

“Left a woman at the altar,” Aedion shakes his head, Lysandra smirking and Gavriel sagging.

 

“Wait until you’re older and I’ll tell you as many stories as you want,” his father sighs. “You’re not ready for this one.”

 

“I’m twenty-four!”

 

“Then wait until you’re thirty!”

 

~~~

 

Stepping out onto the balcony, Gavriel resists looking behind him, instead breathing in the fresh, crisp air. The moon and stars shine brightly above his head, light pouring out of the glass doors behind him as muffled laughter booms through thanks to the swirling, colourful crowds. People in extravagant, bright clothes mesh together behind him as they dance and mingle.

Everyone laughs and whispers as Aelin links arms with Rowan, the two of then smirking as they slip out through another door.

No one notices that Aelin glances back at the party.

Or that Rowan separates from her as soon as the door closes behind them, jumping out of a window as a hawk.

Instead, all eyes are on Elide, Fenrys, Lysandra and Aedion as they dance in the centre of the room, boisterous and loud as they do so, dressed just as brightly as everyone else as their feet spin on the plotted floor.

 

And Gavriel hears the string of a bow strain as a cloaked figure steps out from around a pillar.

 

Shit.

 

She wasn’t supposed to be hiding on the actual balcony. Gavriel will have to chew out the guards later for this, especially since the tip of an arrow is pointed at his chest.

 

“So,” Gavriel winces. “How are you?”

 

~~~

 

“I’m going out there-“

 

Lysandra tightens her grip on Aedion’s shoulder, spinning with him. “Let them handle it. If she wanted to she could have killed him ten minutes ago.”

 

“What are you saying?” Aedion scowls as he picks her up and spins them.

 

“I’m saying,” Lysandra grins as her feet reach the floor and she twirls, “that I have a feeling Gavriel can handle this.”

 

~~~

 

“Is that your son?”

 

Gavriel nods, keeping his hands raised as Silvia circles him. “He is.”

 

“He’s the child of the woman you left me on the altar for?”

 

Gavriel winces. “I didn’t know he existed at the time. He is my pride; if you are here for revenge all I can ask is that you spare him. He’s too young and has seen too much for his life to end now.”

 

Silvia stares at him, her stark white hair hanging over her shoulders, her purple hood hiding her pointed ears as her light eyes narrow. Then, in one swift moment, she angles the bow downwards and removes the arrow.

 

“Sorry about before,” she places it back in her quiver. “It slipped.”

 

“That’s a lie,” Gavriel drops his hands.

 

“Please, you know that he’d be dead if I truly wanted to hit him,” Silvia waves her hand. “I just wanted to see what you left me for.”

 

“By nearly killing my son?” Gavriel snarls, the face of the Lion showing once again.

 

Unimpressed, Silvia raises a brow. “Much is changing now that Maeve is gone. I wouldn’t mind creating ties with Terrasen and the new queen.”

 

Gavriel starts. “Through murder?”

 

“Through talking. Believe it or not, but after I read your letter I only wish to see you dead, not your child,” Silvia nods towards the party. “However I don’t feel like being burnt to a crisp, so it seems you’re safe for now. The queen would throw a hissy-fit of I killed her cousin's father.”

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gavriel breathes in a deep breath. “You cannot kill Aedion.”

 

“I just said I don’t wish to be lit alight.”

 

He stares at her. A fae female, near his own age yet just as deadly as she ever was. That arrow previously could have killed Aedion; Gavriel knew as soon as he saw the symbol carved into the wood. Silvia does not miss unless it’s on purpose, unless it’s to bend a situation in a certain direction. She would need to be watched, monitored, but in the grand scheme of things… it would be more dangerous to turn her away, to not know of her whereabouts.

 

“Yes,” Gavriel sighs as he holds the door open for her, “but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to try.”

 

~~~

 

“You let the murderess who wants to kill me in the palace?” Aedion hisses to Gavriel, the two of them standing by a food table while Lysandra chats with Silvia across the room. “You held the door open for her!”

 

“She said she doesn’t want to fight!” Gavriel nervously glances to the fame in question. “Don’t leave the side tonight. I doubt she’d try anything in public.”

 

“So you do think she’ll try to kill me!” Aedion struggles to keep his voice down. “What happened to you saying that she was terrible and a sadist?”

 

Gavriel hesitates. “In all honesty, I think she and Aelin would get along quite well-“

 

“Do _not_ compare my cousin to a female who tried to kill me with a poisoned arrow,” Aedion narrows his eyes, picking up a plate to keep the pretence of normality.

 

“I’m sorry but we have to - don’t just get cakes, Aedion, get a proper meal - we have to consider that she may just be here to form an alliance,” Gavriel ignores Aedion’s glare as he pushes forward a plate of meat. “We can’t simply attack her.”

 

“Oh, gods,” Aedion chokes, face pale.

 

“What?” Gavriel whirls to him.

 

“Aelin is laughing with her. Why is Aelin laughing with her?”

 

Wincing, Gavriel turns around and downs his glass of wine.

 

~~~

 

The party had slowly dispersed after that, Aelin calling a meeting to discuss Silvia’s presence while the female was shown to a room, Lysandra tracking her in the form of a bug. Chaol, Yrene, Dorian and Manon had immediately been filled in on the situation, the rest fo the royal guests left to their own devices so as to not cause a panic.

 

“I like her,” Aelin smirks from the head of the table. “She’s not near as awful as you made her out to be.”

 

“I never said she was awful,” Gavriel rubs at his eyes, saying back in his seat. “I simply did not wish to marry her; not when the wound of Aedion’s mother was still so fresh and new. And certainly when I had no say in marrying her.”

 

“We all really would have liked to have been included in this,” Dorian glares, Manon by his side baring her iron teeth in agreement. “What if she had tried to kill any of us? Chaol and Yrene left to retire early, thank the gods, but if they had been there-“

 

“Silvia has no interest in killing without benefit,” Fenrys buts in. “Or without a personal vendetta.”

 

“Wonderful,” Manon glares, “I’ll remember that if she tries to talk to me.”

 

Elide winces, as if knowing full well any attempt such as that could very well result in a ripped throat and bloodied iron claws. “Perhaps you should just stay away from her. You two didn’t seem to work well during the party.”

 

It did not go well at all. Apparently, Silvia was not going to bow to any royalty in the room, something that has infuriated many. Yet the cadre for their part just seemed to shrug, saying that immortality causes one to realise that titles such as that become tedious to answer to when they are temporary. It seems that it is not unusual for old fae to think in such a way; much showing courtesy simply to avoid confrontation.

Silvia has made it clear that she does not fear confrontation.

 

“An alliance with her could be useful,” Vaughan states, then winces at Aedion and Gavriel’s matching glares. “The more fae lords and ladies that side with us the better. Many changes are happening now that Maeve is gone; a space for power is being left open, and the more people we have on our side the better.”

 

“Unless she’s simply here to try to kill me,” Aedion scowls.

 

“That’s still very much a possibility,” Gavriel admits, seeming drained. “Silvia is smart, tricky. She’s the kind of female that can hold one intention and then flip it within a moment to reveal her true desires.”

 

“Then we’ll keep a close eye on her,” Aelin stands, glancing to Rowan. “For now, we’ll all enjoy the rest of the night.”

 

~~~

 

The sun is shining, the training ring is empty and clean, the weapons are freshly polished and Aedion swears that his movements haven’t been this smooth in weeks. Air cleanly flows through his lungs, up to head and clearing it from the smog of thoughts that’s been lurking there for the last day. Once he reaches the end, Aedion walks over to a pitcher of water, fully prepared to be bathed and ready for breakfast before the sun finishes rising.

 

“You’re a cocky little shit, aren’t you?”

 

But then again he may be about to die.

 

Turning around, Aedion raises his eyebrows at Silvia, who sits on a second-story window ledge. “Good morning, bitch.”

 

“Likewise,” Silvia drops from the ledge, landing on her feet and stalking over.

 

Aedion cocks his head to the side, resting his weight on one leg. “I would have thought you’d be hounding after my father.”

 

“Aw, someone scared he’s not going to be daddy’s favourite any more?”

 

Aedion bares his teeth. “More like I’m trying to avoid an arrow in my damn chest.”

 

“Hmm,” Silvia strides right past him, eyes flicking over his dismissively. “Not a bad life goal to have.”

 

~~~

 

“I do not like her,” Aedion mutters, tearing meat off a bone.

 

Lysandra eyes him from across the table, eating her lunch with considerably more finesse. “Alright… it’s just that you two actually have quite a bit in common.”

 

Aedion freezes, his eyes flicking up to her. “You talked to Silvia?”

 

“After I showed her which room she was staying in,” Lysandra shrugs. “She knew it was me in bug form so I shifted back and we started talking. After I pushed down my anger at her trying to kill you I found that she’s actually quite enjoyable.”

 

“Thank you for immediately forgiving her for that sin.”

 

“Darling, if I didn’t forgive people who tried to kill you than half of our friends wouldn’t be our friends.”

 

“Not the point,” Aedion glares as he stabs at a piece of meat.

 

“Is Gavriel suspicious of her?” Lysandra sips her tea.

 

“As far as I can tell he’s starting to enjoy her company.”

 

“Then get to know her,” Lysandra reaches across the table and pats his hand. “You may be surprised.”

 

~~~

 

“I don’t have time to baby-sit,” Silvia says as soon she opens the door to her room.

 

Gods, Aedion does not like this female.

 

So instead, Aedion levels her with a look. “Than perhaps you’d be interested in sparring with me.”

 

Pausing, Silvia flicks a brow up. “No.”

 

“No?”

 

“No,” Silvia repeats, placing a hand on her hip. “Just because I’m an old fae doesn’t mean fighting is my specialty. I prefer to fire from a distance.”

 

“Right,” Aedion peers past her, searching for a bow and quiver. “You mean like how you tried to kill me?”

 

“How long will that damage our relationship?” Silvia coos, dark eyes lidding. “You should be aware by now that I’m here for Gavriel, not you.”

 

“I know,” Aedion braces a hand against her door, blocking it as he smirks. “I think you’ll find that we’ve faced worse than a scorned female out for revenge.”

 

They stare at each other, Silvia’s brows raised as she taken in Aedion. He refuses to hide the message in his eyes; mistrust at the female who very well could have killed him, who makes his gut churn in warning.

 

“Fine,” Silvia ties her silver hair back with a scrap of leather. “Let’s go to the gardens than. The weather is nice.”

 

Aedion moves to the side, allowing her to stalk past him. He shudders at her unnatural lack of scent, at the way her dark eyes flick back to peer at him, those dark orbs devoid of empathy. So impossible to read, almost as if staring at a blank piece of paper devoid of any text.

He does not trust this female.

He trusts her even less as they walk through the gardens in complete silence, the female simply pausing to admire flowers and blooming buds. She cups them in her hands, running her fingers over the delicate petals before turning away to continue down the path.

 

“How did you and Gavriel meet?”

 

“A few months before our engagement was put in place.”

 

“Why did you shoot an arrow at me?”

 

“Just to see how fast you are.”

 

“Why do you talk to Aelin?”

 

“I find our conversations enjoyable; she reminds me of myself when I was younger.”

 

“And Lysandra?”

 

“Shifters once lived on my land. I was discussing her kind with her,” Silvia stops by a fountain, and turns to look at him. “Have you finished your interrogation, or must I continue to prove my innocence before I may ask questions?”

 

Pausing, Aedion contemplates, then nods.

 

“How old are you?”

 

“Twenty-four.”

 

“Who was your mother? Don’t give me that look; I’ve heard the stories of how the great lion was felled by love.”

 

“She was Evalin’s cousin, and sister to the king of Wendlyn,” Aedion shifts his shoulders uncomfortably. “I still haven’t heard how she and my father met.”

 

“Hmm,” Silvia peers in the pure water of the fountain. “I know of your family tree. And how long ago did she pass?”

 

Aedion narrows his eyes. “When I was five.”

 

“Nineteen years ago,” Silvia murmurs, sitting on the edge of the fountain. “And has Gavriel seen anyone since?”

 

It’s hard to ignore the churning in his stomach, but Aedion gains satisfaction in being able to nod and see the questions in her eyes.

 

“With who?”

 

“A few females here and there,” Aedion smirks lazily, meeting her gaze head on once again. “At least while I’ve known him. I don’t know about the last twenty or so years.”

 

A lie. The cadre already confessed to him that Gavriel seemed put off dating after the time period that he met Aedion’s mother. That all other relationships, should he ever even be pushed towards any, had been meaningless.

But Silvia doesn’t need to know that.

 

“Right,” Silvia says slowly and stands once again. “I may go back to work. Thank you for your time, Aedion.”

 

He watches her leave, turning the corner down the path.

 

“How long have you been watching?” Aedion turns around and uncrosses his arms

 

Vaughan walks out from around a hedge, a slightly guilty look across his face. “It was Fenrys’ idea.”

 

“Did you seriously think I didn’t notice that you’ve all been watching me?”

 

“We’d dishonour Gavriel is we allowed anything to happen to you with one of our old acquaintances here,” Vaughan shrugs awkwardly. “I think we all may need to talk. Without Gavriel.”

 

“Oh, gods, another cadre meeting-“

 

“Just come to the lounge room.”

 

~~~

 

“Now, boyo,” Fenrys sits across from Aedion, a soft look adorning his face, “we knew there may come a time when a female enters Gavriel’s life whom you feel you need to compete with for attention-“

 

“She tried,” Aedion growls, cutting Fenrys off, “to kill me!”

 

“That’s why we’re here,” Lorcan narrows his eyes, leaning against the mantle. “None of us trust her.”

 

Vaughan makes an uncertain sound, and everyone whips around to stare at him. The usually-quiet fae male shifts on his feet, fidgeting, as his eyes linger towards the door.

 

“Yes, Vaughan?” Rowan asks, tone making it clear that there is no escape.

 

“I don’t mind her…”

 

All at once, Fenrys, Lorcan and Aedion exclaim in disbelief, Rowan simply placing his head in his hands and slowly shaking it. Vaughan, for the most part, turns red, unable to look at any of them.

 

“We’re all going to ignore what Vaughan just said,” Fenrys decides, “and focus on this issue.”

 

Aedion glares. “You were just making jokes.”

 

“Yes, but even I’m wary of her,” Fenrys’ eyes darken.

 

Right, that is then a cause for concern.

 

“Perhaps we should talk to Gavriel,” Rowan suggests, and at once everyone turns to look at Aedion.

 

The demi-fae blinks. “What?”

 

“You’re his son,” Fenrys shrugs. “He’s more likely to tolerate you than any of us right now.”

 

Muttering under his breath, Aedion stands, making his way to the door. “One of these days, you’re all going to have to do your spying yourselves-“

 

He slams it shut behind him.

 

“So,” Fenrys frowns, turning to the others. “Is Silvia behind the strange sightings? Multiple guards have said that they see someone roaming at night.”

 

“We can only assume it’s her,” Rowan taps a finger against the arm of his chair, green eyes distant with thought. “Until then we keep an eye on her, as well as Aedion and Gavriel. We don’t know what could happen. For now, no one trusts her.”

 

Nodding, Fenrys stands and leaves, fully prepared to receive more reports from guards. Rowan leaves as well, heading straight for Aelin to report the sightings that have already been made.

 

Standing alone in the room, Vaughan just frowns. “Right, because my opinion doesn’t matter.”

 

~~~

 

Aedion twitches, opening one eye at the sound of something shifting outside his room. He sees a shadow flitter under the doorway, and he slowly sits up to peer closer. Lysandra shifts beside him, mumbling before settling one again. Aedion turns to press a single kiss to her temple before stepping out of bed.

He slowly closes the door to his room behind him, peering down the hallway. Walking forward, Aedion squints, trying to decipher the shadows that flicker in the light of the lamps.

Aedion can hear nothing, smell nothing, as he steps out, looking around with his keen eyesight and spotting no one. He stares down the long staircase in front of him, narrowing his eyes at something standing near the bottom of it, and-

And a hard pressure is applied between his shoulder blades, pushing him forward.

Sloppy. He’s sloppy when he’s tired, falling head first down the staircase, crying out in alarm as he does. Instinctively, he raises his arms, trying to protect his head even as he feels shark pain split through it. Something in his chest definitely cracks once he reaches the bottom of the staircase, searing pain flowing through him as he tries to roll onto his back.

 

“Aedion? Aedion!”

 

Groaning, he tries to sit up at Lysandra’s voice but no, a rib must be cracked at the pain that flows through his torso as well. He barks out in pain as she places her hand on his collarbone, and thuds back to lay on the floor, regretting it immediately once the pain in his head continues.

 

“Somebody call a healer! Get Yrene!”

 

Wincing, Aedion looks up as Lysandra bows over him, hands hovering over his face. “I don’t…”

 

“You have a concussion,” Lysandra’s voice shakes, even as she keeps her hands steady. “Your head is bleeding. Try to stay awake, Aedion, you can’t- somebody get a healer!”

 

He knows he’s not supposed to sleep, yet he can’t help the feeling of his eyes slipping closed.

 

~~~

 

“Silvia is in the dungeons,” Aelin growls as she tears through the rooms, eyes softening just barely as she looks to Aedion’s bed. “How is he?”

 

Yrene hesitates, lowering her hands from where they hovered over Aedion’s body. “Broken collarbone, cracked rib, severe blow to the head. I’ve healed a majority of his injuries, but he’ll still be unsteady thanks to the head injury. He’ll need to rest for a little while so that it doesn’t develop into a problem.”

 

“Thank the gods,” Gavriel croaks, sinking down into an armchair, everyone sending him worried looks.

 

“You said it was Silvia?” Manon asks, eyes narrowing from where she stands by a window.

 

“I don’t know,” Lysandra refuses to move from where she sits by Aedion. “I didn’t see anyone; I just heard him yell.”

 

“There’s no way Aedion fell down those stairs by accident,” Dorian states, arms crossed as he stands by a dresser.

 

“But I highly doubt anyone would have been able to surprise him like that,” Chaol butts in from Yrene’s side, a hand on her lower back to steady her. “That just doesn’t seem plausible.”

 

“Silvia has no sent,” Fenrys theories. “It would have been easier for her to attack Aedion-“

 

“It wasn’t Silvia.”

 

Everyone looks to Gavriel, who is still staring at Aedion with a bleak kind of horror. Finding his son broken at the bottom of those stairs, Lysandra near tears as she held his body, shocked him more than Gavriel will ever want to admit. Seeing Aedion’s eyes closed, when they’ve never closed thanks to injury before-

It would be a sick joke if the thing that finally ended his son’s life was a tumble down the stairs and a knock to the head. An unfair, sick joke towards all the scars and marks of survival that linger across Aedion’s body.

 

“Are you sure?” Aelin’s hands are still curled into fists by her sides, trembling with barely contained rage.

 

“She likes Aedion,” Gavriel closes his eyes, unable to look at his son with his laboured breathing. “And she wouldn’t have done it this messy, or stayed to be captured.”

 

“She likes Aedion?” Elide asks curiously, sitting on the arm of the chair Lorcan slumps in.

 

Gavriel shrugs listlessly. “She’s amused by him, at the very least.”

 

“I’m going to see her,” Lysandra slowly stands from the bed, and everyone can already see the change in her eyes, her nails nearly forming claws.

 

“I don’t think it was her either,” Vaughan’s soft voice slices through the room, pausing Lysandra. “It couldn’t have been.”

 

“And why is that?” Lorcan scowls, looking close to storming from the room himself.

 

Tugging slightly at his collar, his neck flushing, Vaughan looks away. “I was with her last night.”

 

Everyone pauses and blinks. The anger in the room immediately dissipated, no one seems to know what to say or do as Vaughan shrinks away from their stares.

 

“I…” Gavriel sits up straighter. “You talked to her often while we were preparing the wedding-“

 

“Vaughan,” Fenrys stares at his friend, “are you saying that you and Silvia-“

 

“She was with me when Aedion fell!” Vaughan snaps, dark eyes flicking away. “That’s all I’m going to disclose on this matter.”

 

Even Aelin gapes, her anger replaced with shock. “I- alright. Then that means that whatever reports we’ve been having of someone walking around at night hasn’t been her.”

 

“You have a large number of guests here for Rowan’s birthday,” Dorian contemplates. “A spy or assassin could have easily snuck in or portrayed themselves as a guest.”

 

“We could hunt them down,” Manon suggests, tapping an iron nail against the window sill. “Lure them here.”

 

At once both Gavriel and Lysandra release feral growls, standing from where they are and whirling towards Manon. The witch pulls her lips back in a snarl herself yet makes no move to attack, simply waiting.

 

“We are not putting Aedion in danger,” Lysandra growls, sitting again by his side. “I’m staying with him; you all go hunt down whoever did this.”

 

Everyone looks to Aelin, who simply nods her head.

 

They pretend not to see the satisfaction in Manon’s smile at the permission to kill.

 

~~~

 

“I do not like this,” Silvia hisses as soon as the door to her cell is unlocked. “I’ve been falsely accused with murder; I was with-“

 

“They know Silvia,” Vaughan sags as he holds the door open, dark eyes defeated.

 

Her own eyes soften momentarily as she looks at him, then hardens once she turns to Aelin. “What’s happening?”

 

“Gavriel and Fenrys are locking down the castle, we’re hunting down whoever dared do this,” Aelin narrows her eyes at Silvia. “I assume the new attacker was also the one who shot the arrow?”

 

“No,” Silvia says without shame, “that was me. Where’s the boy?”

 

“Healing.”

 

“Good; it could have turned out much worse,” Silvia accepts her bow from Vaughan, slinging her quiver over her shoulder. “He could have done much more damage than just push him. I’m surprised by how sloppy his actions were, he must have underestimated Aedion.”

 

Aelin stiffens. “Him?”

 

Turning, Silvia snarls. “I’m not the only one of Gavriel’s past friends who would take this party as an opportunity to visit.”

 

“Who is it?” Vaughan demands, eyes flicking towards the stairs.

 

Silvia’s eyes darken as she answers.

 

~~~

 

Lysandra’s eyes flicker to the door at the sounds of footsteps, slowly standing to position her body in front of Aedion. It takes but a moment for her body to shift and crack, for her claws to click against the floor as she prowls towards the door.

 

~~~

 

“Shit,” Gavriel growls as he hurls himself up the staircase, practically bouncing off the walls as he hurls towards Aedion and Lysandra’s room.

 

“Who is he?” Aelin snaps, everyone right behind the Lion.

 

“Someone who hates Gavriel very much,” Silvia informs her, a small dagger in the fae’s hand already. “Two hundred years ago he challenged Gavriel to a fight for the honour he felt that Gavriel owed him. Of course, he was nothing but a fool, but nevertheless, his hatred for Gavriel grew after he lost the battle.”

 

“I never thought we’d hear from him again,” Vaughan snarls, looking near-ready to shift and sink his teeth in whoever has appeared.

 

“Who?” Dorian asks.

 

“A male we all detest and hate-“ Lorcan starts, then cuts off as Elide shoves past him.

 

“Just tell them who it is or move!” Fenrys pushes past Lorcan, bumping him against the wall. “Favourite uncle coming through!”

 

“We agreed you weren’t the favourite!”

 

“Just _move!_ ” Gavriel sprints past the top of the staircase, shooting towards the room, a parade of deadly warriors following behind him.

 

A roar sounds out through the hallway, spurring them on further. As soon as they reach the gaping door they have to step to the side, a furry mass flying through it along with a roaring fae male. Immediately, Gavriel dives into the fray, slamming the bloodied figure away from Lysandra and pinning him to the ground. The lion receives a vicious punch to the door that causes his head to snap to the side, yet Gavriel makes no hesitation to raise his fist, ready to plunge it into the face below him.

 

“What’s happening?” Aedion mumbles, stumbling out of the room, eyes foggy as a hand braces itself on the doorframe.

 

Gavriel’s attention immediately goes to his son, allowing the male underneath him to land a solid hit to the chest, shocking Gavriel to the point where he falls to the side.

Immediately, the male turns and sprints, blood flowing from his open wounds, everyone darts forward, weapons out and ready, chasing to see who can reach him first-

No one is complaining when Manon finally gains her kill, the male's throat tearing as easily as paper around her iron nails. They may have to look away as her teeth dig into his arm, ripping away a solid chunk of flesh that somehow disappears.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel immediately jumps to his feet, everyone turning away from the corpse as he takes Aedion’s head in his hands. “Are you alright?”

 

Blinking slowly, Aedion looks around the room. “I-“

 

“It was the old general of the army I was enrolled in,” Gavriel explains hurriedly under his breath. “I was supposed to become general but he had some issues with Maeve’s new arrangements. He’s been hunting for me ever since, but I hadn’t heard anything in years so I just assumed he gave up. With Silvia here, we were distracted.”

 

“Thank you all for your faith,” Silvia glares heavily, before turning away, watching Manon as she bows over the male's corpse with a morbid kind of fascination.

 

“I-“

 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Aelin steps forward, immediately inspecting her cousin. “You should lie back down.”

 

hesitating, Aedion’s eyes quickly roam over everyone, clearly distressed and confused.

 

“Come on, darling,” Lysandra places a hand on his arm, ignoring her own scratches and the blood, not her own, covering her nails. “You’re not supposed to be moving.”

 

“E-Evalin?” Aedion blinks at Aelin, and everyone pauses.

 

“What?” Aelin asks slowly.

 

Concerned glances are swapped, many people backing away, as Aedion’s bottom lip begins to tremor as his eyes well. “I- I don’t-“

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel drops his voice, moving in front of Aedion, gripping his shoulders and prompting his son to look him in the eyes. “Are you alright? That’s Aelin.”

 

To Gavriel’s great concern, Aedion steps back, out of his arms. Eyes flicking wildly, Aedion stares at them all with clear confusion and panic, shifting as if unable to decide on whether or not to run.

 

Aedion makes a loud sound of distress and takes another step back. “She… baby…”

 

“Aedion,” Lysandra creeps forward, holding her hands out in front of her. “Do you know who I am?”

 

Everyone pales as he shakes his head frantically, suddenly sobbing.

 

“You don’t know who we are?” Gavriel chokes, reaching out to touch him.

 

His wail is enough of an answer.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA


	17. Pen, Pencil, Chalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twenty-one pages. I kept my deadline and wrote TWENTY-ONE PAGES. I'm so proud!
> 
> Also I'd apologies for giving you guys a cliffhanger but I enjoyed being evil too much ^v^

“Well, we should all leave!” Dorian bursts out of his room, carrying his bags with everyone else trailing after him.

 

“You all can’t just leave!” Aelin snaps.

 

“Yes we can,” Chaol deadpans, and barges right past her, both his and Yrene’s bags in his hands.

 

“Where’s your cane? You’re supposed to be lamed and need help!”

 

“I don’t need help running away from you!”

 

“Goodbye,” Yrene gives her a strained smile as she walks past, her baby clinging to her chest.

 

Dammit. Aelin can’t be angry when such a cute little blob waves its hand at her. But she can wince as another howl comes from the lounge room, Gavriel and Lysandra’s distressed voices raising in pitch as they try to calm Aedion. Moving him to the very room itself had been hell.

 

“His memories should slowly return to him!” Yrene calls back. “Just try to keep anything from shocking him!”

 

“He lost nineteen years of memories!” Aelin roars down the hall. “He’s five! What the hell are we supposed to do?”

 

“Pray,” Manon smirks as she slides past Aelin, striding down the hall to catch up with Dorian, who has long fled the scene.

 

Cursing under her breath, Aelin barges back into the room, and winces at the image of Aedion sitting in a corner, scowling, a book in his hand and raised above his head. Gavriel and Lysandra hover at the other side of the room, both seeming shocked and shaken.

 

“Have you seriously been letting him throw books?” Aelin snaps, eyeing the paper volumes scattered across the room with dismay.

 

“He has no idea who we are!” Lysandra says, clearly distressed, her hair and clothes in disarray. “And he’s angry now!”

 

Gavriel has crouched down as they bicker, making himself level with Aedion, who growls and pulls his arm back. Wincing, Gavriel places up his hands in surrender, fully aware that even with the mindset of a child Aedion still has the strength of an adult.

And he does not need to be hit with another hardcover book. The bookcase Aedion is curled up against is already half-empty.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel keeps his voice to a soft coo. “Why are you angry?”

 

“Go away!”

 

At the cry, Gavriel shifts back a step. “Alright, alright. Do you want to see Aelin?”

 

The queen and shifter pause in their bickering to watch the interaction. Aelin smiles as Aedion glances at her, and winces at the tiny growl he releases.

 

“She isn’t squishy!”

 

At that, Aelin’s mind blanks. “What?”

 

“Aelin is tiny! And squishy! You’re not my squishy!”

 

Aelin stares, not even paying attention to the loud laughter that erupts behind the door, no doubt the rest of the court listening in. Lysandra has to turn away, shoulders shaking, even Gavriel clamping his lips tight together so as not to shock Aedion with booming laughter.

Oh, they’ll all laugh later. They’ll laugh all right.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel says, ignoring Aelin as she slowly turns away with her face in her hands, “do you know who the cadre are?”

 

At that, interest sparks in his son’s eyes, and Aedion nods quickly.

 

“So you know who Gavriel is?”

 

Another nod, this time slower and more suspicious.

 

Gavriel points to himself. “That’s me. I’m Gavriel.”

 

Silence ticks throughout the room as Aedion narrows his eyes, clearly thinking over what Gavriel has said. Everyone holds their breath, inside and outside the room, as they wait to see if any recognition will be made.

 

“You’re not a lion!”

 

“Oh dear gods,” Aelin mumbles, collapsing in an armchair.

 

Yet Gavriel’s lips simply twitch up into a smile. “I am a lion.”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

His son’s abruptness and stubbornness makes Gavriel chuckle, and he shifts. Eyes wide, Aedion scrambles against the wall for a moment, staring at the large mountain lion now in front of him. Licking his jaws, Gavriel lies down, setting his head on his paws. Best to allow Aedion to come to him.

Creeping forward, Aedion sniffs his scent, eyes narrowed still as he observes Gavriel. He tentatively reaches a hand out and touches Gavriel’s back, stroking it down his fur much like one would do a cat. Releasing a rumble, Gavriel bumps his nose against Aedion’s leg.

 

“Lion!” Aedion grins, face lighting with joy. “Gavriel!”

 

Sighing, Lysandra collapses in a chair next to Aelin, watching as Aedion pokes and prods his father, crawling around him. It doesn’t take long for Aedion appear to fully relax, sitting back and allowing Gavriel to sit up. Aedion smiles charmingly at them, eyes full of childlike curiosity. It’s very sweet, considering how distressed he was before. An amazing change, really, that they didn’t expect.

However, as soon as Gavriel shifts back, the male is met with a scowl and a book to the head.

 

“Shit!” Gavriel barks in surprise, a hand darting to his forehead in surprise as he falls back.

 

At his exclamation Lysandra and Aelin both stand up, going towards him, only to be shocked once Aedion darts past them and shoots out the door. Gavriel, Lysandra and Aelin all stand, ready to run after them, only to pause at the commotion that suddenly explodes out in the hall.

They dart out, and are met with the image of Vaughan collapsed on the ground, Lorcan shielding Elide, Fenrys standing on a small table and Rowan pinning a squirming Aedion to the ground. The demi-fae struggles under Rowan’s grip, not seemingly bothered by the domineering presence of the king and full-blooded fae. Apparently, children have little consideration for such titles.

 

“Calm down!” Rowan growls, pinning Aedion’s arms behind his back and forcing him back onto his stomach.

 

“Off!” Aedion snaps, kicking out a leg and catching Rowan in the hip, making him grunt even if he doesn’t move.

 

“Rowan!” Gavriel surges towards them. “Let him up!”

 

“He’s not dangerous!” Elide agrees, scowling as she pushes Lorcan to the side.

 

Aedion’s eyes lock on Aelin’s. “Evalin!”

 

Aelin sucks in a quick breath at once again being compared to her mother. Yet Aedion’s distressed look, the way he cowers away from everybody as if they are strangers…

Because they are strangers. Because, to him, he has woken up in his home with strangers who say his name and won’t tell him where his family is. Only Aelin looks like Evalin, looks like someone Aedion knows and would seek for comfort.

Everyone else is scary.

 

“Yes, Aedion,” Aelin says slowly, ignoring everyone’s gasps.

 

She nods to Rowan, and he releases Aedion. He knocks into her, staying on his knees as he buries his head into her stomach and shakes. He doesn’t shed a tear, Aedion being as hard willed as a child as he is an adult, yet clings on with desperation. Aelin stiffly places a hand on top of his head.

 

“Did you meet Gavriel?” Aelin asks, fully knowing the answer.

 

“Lion!” Aedion nods against her.

 

“Why did you throw a book at his head?” Aelin asks, everyone turning to look at the purple mark blooming on Gavriel’s forehead that’s sure to fade soon.

 

“Stranger danger!” Aedion scowl fiercely, stubbornly refusing to look at anyone but Aelin.

 

Fenrys coughs, the sound clearly a masking of laughter. Vaughan simply groans from his spot on the floor. He was a stranger, apparently, and the granted him a full-on tackle.

 

Sucking in another breath, and summoning all her patience, Aelin kneels down to take Aedion’s hands in hers. “He’s your father, Aedion.”

 

One again, silence falls. Everyone tenses as they wait for his reaction, fully expecting more tears.

Instead, Aedion turns to curiously gaze at Gavriel, eyes bright and curious.

 

“My papa?”

 

“Yes,” Aelin nods, feeling exhaustion fill her bones.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Aedion stays quiet, seemingly to think for a moment. How well would a five-year-old take the news? Would it shock him? Make him overjoyed? Has Aedion even felt the pain of his father’s absence yet?

 

Instead, Aedion seems to look at Gavriel with curiosity. “…do you wanna play?”

 

Gavriel blinks. “Yes.”

 

Nodding, Aedion clampers to his feet, grabs Gavriel’s hand, and pulls him down the hallway. “Come see my room!”

 

Everyone watches them go, before Lysandra jolts, remembering that the room is no longer as it once was. Aelin seems to make that same realisation, meeting each others eyes in fear. But they can leave Gavriel to deal with that, they’ve done enough.

Vaughan moans from the floor as Fenrys nudges him with a foot.

 

~~~

 

“Why don’t we go to my room instead?” Gavriel suddenly suggests as they round the corner. “I have games there.”

 

Aedion pauses and turns to him, cocking his head to the side. “Games?”

 

“I have lead and paper, you could draw me something,” Gavriel knows he’s said the right thing as soon as Aedion’s eyes light up and he nods.

 

He leads Aedion to his room, keeping a firm grasp on his hand as Aedion all but tries to pull in front of him, never minding that he has no idea where Gavriel’s room actually is. It’s as if something has electrified him, or at the very least has removed whatever dampers Aedion held.

His eyes are bright, his grin wide and innocent, and he almost looks as though he’s shining with light.

Gods. Gavriel doesn’t know how to look after a child! Nothing at all! This wasn’t taught in the war camps; much less how to look after a fully grown demi-fae who thinks he’s five! But he can’t panic. Yrene said it was temporary, and that it would be best not to confuse or hurt Aedion to worsen the situation. He needs to stay calm, if only for his son’s sake.

“This is my room,” Gavriel opens the door. “Down the stairs, and to the left. If you ever need to find me try coming here.”

 

Aedion nods quickly, bursting into Gavriel’s room as soon as his father releases his hand, eager eyes taking in everything around him. Gavriel stands guard as Aedion feels the covers on the bed, pokes the items on his dresser, and admires the weapons he keeps against one wall (yet Aedion never tries to touch any of them, no matter how much his wide-eyed look of wonder worries Gavriel).

 

“Here’s some paper,” Gavriel walks over to his desk, and opens the draws, pulling out the supplies. “And here’s some pencils. I don’t have any colours, but I could find some if you’d like?”

 

But Aedion simply sits straight down on the floor, takes the paper, and starts scribbling. Gavriel sits down in his chair, watching Aedion for a few moments before eyeing some of the papers on his desk. May as well accomplish work while they’ve been blessed with a few moments of peace.

It doesn’t take long for Gavriel to fill out forms and compose letters, or so he thinks. Once he feels a tug on his pants he jolts, then looks down at Aedion, who stares up at him with inquisitive eyes. A glance at the clock shows an hour has passed.

An hour. Thank the gods he gave Aedion extra paper, because every sheet is filled to the brim with some kind of image.

 

“I’m bored,” Aedion mumbles, looking down at the pencil as he toys with it.

 

“Of course,” Gavriel glances at the clock once again. “You know, it’s nearly time for lunch, so why don’t we go do that?”

 

Perking up, Aedion clampers to his feet and makes a dash for the door.

 

“Wait!” Gavriel sprints after him, and grabs his hand. “You can’t just run off. We’re going to go back to the room we were in before, and have someone bring us lunch.”

 

Seeming very unhappy with the idea, Aedion nods slowly, and allows Gavriel to lead him from the room. The Lion has to sigh at the mood coming from Aedion as the demi-fae fidgets on a couch, glancing at the window and obviously itching to be outside.

But they can’t have people knowing that the general is… _unavailable_ at the moment, a five-year-old instead taking his place.

 

“After lunch,” Gavriel considers his words carefully, “why don’t we go out and take a walk?”

 

“Yes!” Aedion immediately grins, seeming ready to leave the room at the very moment.

 

Gods, Gavriel has no idea what he’s doing. They can’t go outside. What if someone spots Aedion and sees it as an opportunity to attack? But how does he now explain that they can’t do what he just promised?

Then Fenrys walks into the room.

Immediately, his eyes widen, and he starts backing away.

 

“Fenrys!” Gavriel jumps to his feet. “Do. Not. Move.”

 

The male freezes, eyes darting between them, dark and worried. “I’m busy.”

 

“Doing what?”

 

“Work.”

 

“What kind of work?”

 

“Trading documents.”

 

“Strange,” Gavriel narrows his eyes, stalking towards Fenrys. “Because this morning you were happy that you finished it all.”

 

They both stare at each other. Gavriel darts out and grabs Fenrys’s arm as he tries to run out the door, Fenrys groaning as Gavriel drags him back into the room.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel drags Fenrys to stand in front of the staring Aedion, “this is Fenrys. Do you know who he is?”

 

“Wolf!”

 

“Yes,” Gavriel grins, “and he’s going to stay with you while I get some lunch.”

 

Fenrys whips his head around to stare at Gavriel, fear illuminating his face. “Gavriel, I can’t,” Fenrys drops his voice into a hushed whisper. “I don’t know how to look after children!”

 

“You love them! And he’s not an actual child!”

 

‘Exactly! He throws another book and I’m dead!”

 

“Want to play with Fenrys?” Gavriel suddenly asks Aedion, who perks up and nods.

 

“Yes please!” Aedion stares at Fenrys, eyes shining with joy.

 

Fenrys’s heart cracks, and he sags in Gavriel’s grip.

 

“Damn you,” Fenrys whispers to the older fae. “Damn you to hell.”

 

Gavriel claps him on the shoulder. “He likes drawing. And animals.”

 

“I can only do one of those thing!” Fenrys calls as Gavriel runs out of the room.

 

He turns and stares at Aedion, who sits cross-legged on the couch. Aedion blinks at him, and Fenrys blinks back. What would the boyo have liked as a child? From what he’s seen so far Aedion is just as headstrong as he usually is, not being fazed by much. Perhaps even less now that in caution as an adult has melted away.

 

“Can you really turn into a wolf?” Aedion asks, chewing on a finger.

 

“You bet,” Fenrys smirks. “Stop chewing on your hand and I’ll show you.”

 

Aedion’s palm immediately drops into his lap, and Fenrys shifts.

 

“Wow!” Aedion scrambles forward, running a hand through Fenrys’s fur. “You’re a wolf!”

 

Fenrys may preen slightly as he sits, his tail wagging while Aedion admires him. It’s gratifying, he must admit, to be looked at with such awe.

 

“Can we go for a walk?” Aedion tilts his head to the side, eyes wide and curious. “Please? You could run really fast!”

 

Fenrys barely refrains from shifting back so he can say he’s not a dog, but just dips his head in agreement. Cheering, Aedion surges to his feet, and Fenrys follows him out of the door. They hurtle through the halls, only gaining slight notice before they burst outside and sprint into the centre of the garden. As soon as they reach a patch of lush grass Aedion rolls onto his back, laughing loudly.

 

“That was fun!” Aedion yells, staring happily into the sky.

 

Fenrys shifts back, and sits next to him. “It was. Hey boyo, do you like Gavriel?”

 

“Yes,” Aedion watches a bug fly past.

 

“Are you alright with him being your… papa?” Fenrys tries to say it as casually as possible.

 

“He’s not,” Aedion makes a grab for the bug, scowling as it flies out of reach.

 

Fenrys, however, freezes. “He’s not?”

 

“Nu-uh,” Aedion squints at the insect. “My papa didn’t want me or my mama.”

 

Staring, Fenrys tries to process what has been said. So Aedion doesn’t really accept Gavriel as his father, especially if her doesn’t consider him to be such a thing at all.

 

“He smells good though,” Aedion gains Fenrys’s attention once again, those blue eyes staring at the fae male. “Like Aelin and Evalin and Rhoe.”

 

That brings a small smile to Fenrys’s face. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Like sunshine.”

 

Fenrys nods, humming to himself. Oh, he is going to tell Gavriel that. And everyone else. And Aedion once he gets his memories back. Really, this fact is simply never going to be forgotten.

 

“Hey,” Fenrys nudges Aedion, “want to go see the dogs?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Fenrys laughs as he pulls Aedion along with him, the latter barely containing his excitement.

 

~~~

 

“One job!” Gavriel paces the room, running his hands through his hair. “Fenrys had one job!”

 

Rowan watches from the doorway. “I’m sure they’re just having lunch or something.”

 

“I was getting lunch!”

 

“Then they went out.”

 

Gavriel slowly turns to meet Rowan’s gaze. “If they went out, then that means my twenty-four years old son, who now has the mentality of a child, could be engaging with all sorts of people.”

 

Rowan pauses, and hesitates. “That may be the case…”

 

“We’re finding them!”

 

Sighing, Rowan follows the Lion out of the room.

 

~~~

 

“Where’d you learn to make flower crowns?” Fenrys asks, watching Aedion weave roses together.

 

Of course, he already removed all the thorns. He values his life after all, and knows that angering Gavriel would place it in threat.

 

“Aelin,” Aedion states proudly, holding it up. “She’ll want them.”

 

“But she’s a baby?”

 

“Uh-huh!” Aedion starts on another. “But I can teach her!”

 

“You’re already practicing to teach her?” Fenrys’s heart pangs. “You must really love her.”

 

Aedion nods, then looks to Fenrys. “Do you have a sister?”

 

“I have… I had a brother,” Fenrys turns away slightly, busying himself with cutting away thorns.

 

“Connall!” Aedion says in recognition, the flowers now forgotten in his hands. “The other wolf!”

 

“Wow, you’ve really heard all the stories, huh?” Fenrys grins. “Who’s your favourite? The Wolves, Lion or one of the birds?”

 

“Connall!” Aedion grins. “Connall’s my favourite! The cool wolf!”

 

Normally, if it was anyone else about anything else, Fenrys would be indignant. He’d argue, laugh it away, or simply roll his eyes. But the fact that Connall, his brother, used to be Aedion’s favourite, the one he loved as a child…

And he’ll never meet him. Gavriel’s child will never meet his favourite member of the cadre. Connall will never know that, no matter how in the shadows he believed himself to be, the son of one of their closest companions held him in such a light.

 

“Yeah,” Fenrys swallows thickly, reaching out to muse Aedion’s hair. “He was the cool wolf.”

 

Aedion nods seriously, as if a true statement has been made and confirmed. He turns back to the plants in his hands, missing the way Fenrys’s eyes darken and gain a sheen.

 

“Aedion?”

 

But the look is quickly wiped away, Fenrys turning to greet Gavriel’s voice. The Lion turns the corner, glancing around the hedge. He visibly sags as he sees Aedion sitting with Fenrys, both of them laden with flowers of all kind. Rowan follows after him, raising brows at the scene.

 

“Hi!” Aedion waves.

 

“Oh, thank the gods,” Gavriel sighs. “What are you two doing?”

 

“Making crowns,” Aedion holds one up as an example.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel looks to his son, “you were supposed to wait for lunch.”

 

“But we came out to run!” Aedion scowls, apparently just as argumentative as a child as he is an adult. “You said we couldn’t go for a walk, not that I couldn’t go with him!”

 

Coughing, Fenrys turns away, Rowan himself needing to clamp his lips shut as Gavriel blinks at Aedion’s rebuttal.

 

“That,” Gavriel hesitates, “is not the point.”

 

“You said to play with Fenrys!”

 

“I-I did,” Gavriel struggles for words, “but you can’t just leave like that without telling an adult.”

 

Aedion points to Fenrys. “Grown-up.”

 

“I- yes,” Gavriel glares at Rowan’s shaking shoulder. “But you need to tell me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I need to know.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I just do, Aedion,” Gavriel rubs at his face.

 

He’s relieved when Aedion nods slowly, seeming to accept this fact.

 

“But why?”

 

Apparently not.

 

“Let’s go have lunch,” Gavriel mumbles, ignoring Rowan and Fenrys’s wheezing.

 

~~~

 

 _“Aedion!_ Put the spoon _down!_ Rowan isn’t a stranger!”

 

~~~

 

“I’m tired,” Gavriel groans, closing the door to Aedion’s old room, the latter inside and sleeping. “I’m so, so tired, Fenrys. And did you have to tell him that last story? It just riled him up.”

 

“Better than being stupid enough to give him a spoon,” Fenrys scowls.

 

“I didn’t think he was still afraid of Rowan!” Gavriel unlocks the door to his own room once they reach it. “You weren’t exactly jumping to stop him either.”

 

A confused look flashes across Fenrys’s face. “Stop him?”

 

Gavriel shakes his head, eyeing the mess in his room. “At least he’s asleep now.”

 

Fenrys releases a low whistle at all the drawings strewn across Gavriel’s floor. “The boyo does like drawing. Or did? I’m not sure what tense to use.”

 

He continues on, even as Gavriel kneels on the ground, staring at a drawing in his hand. Then he picks up another, comparing the two as all blood drains from his face.

 

“I mean, he’s still Aedion, but he has the mind of a five-year-old, and that’s pretty much because he’s lost his memories. So do we use past tense since it’s not our normal Aedion, or do we use present tense because that’s who he is currently? I’ve been debating this and… Gavriel? Are you alright?”

 

But the Lion is still on his knees, hands shaking in a way they never have before. Fenrys slowly creeps forward, kneeling by his companion as Gavriel continues to stare.

 

“Gavriel?” Fenrys asks, trying to catch his eyes. “Gavriel, what’s wrong?”

 

Only a choked growl is given. So Fenrys looks down at the drawings in Gavriel’s hands, and for a moment his breath stops.

Horrifying. Horrifying depictions on fae children being burnt while their parents watch and scream and hold their arms out towards their precious offsprings. It is only worsened by the next image, where it shows the adults being murdered in a multitude of methods.

Movements becoming frantic, Gavriel reaches for the other drawings and quickly collects them into a large pile. Each one, each one depicting some grotesque memory. There are ones of slaves in chains, angry looking figures with raised, red fists and a few of the creations display such horrid acts happening upon Aedion that Gavriel feels bile raise in his throat.

 

“Shit,” Fenrys whispers, taking in the horrors. “Shit.”

 

Swallowing the foul taste, Gavriel sits properly and places down the sheets. “It’s his memories. He’s slowly remembering, like Yrene said. He’s been drawing them. I just… I didn’t notice. He showed some of them to me, but I only glanced at them. How- how could I not-“

 

“Gavriel,” Fenrys squeezes his shoulder, brows bunched in concern. “Gavriel, breath. It’s alright.”

 

 _“It’s not alright!”_ Gavriel roars, standing. “How can it possibly be alright when these are the things my child suffered through? I _failed_ him, Fenrys. I _failed in protecting him_ , the one thing a parent is supposed to try their hardest to do!”

 

“And you are!” Fenrys grips both of Gavriel’s shoulders. “It’s what you’ve been striding for since you learnt about his existence!”

 

“Gods,” Gavriel swallows, staring at one drawing. “No wonder he flinches.”

 

Taking a small step back, fenrys removes his hands. “Gavriel, there’s no right answer,” the authority in his voice causes the Lion to look to him, “and there is no single way to save Aedion from all of this. I know you want to, believe me I know, but these aren’t monsters you can scare away with a roar. The only thing you can do, and I mean the only thing, is to talk to him about this. Talk and listen so that he knows you are willing to stand by him even when he’s remembering all of these awful moments. Let him know you are not disgusted by this, by the nightmares he faces.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel inhales a shuddering breath, rubbing at his eyes. “Right. I… I need to see him. I’m going to check on him.”

 

“Alright,” Fenrys says softly, nodding. “If you need anything then just say.”

 

“Thank you, Fenrys,” Gavriel briefly holds the other male, clapping him on the back. “Really.”

 

“No need for thanks,” Fenrys flashes a strained grin. “Go and see your son.”

 

It’s a short walk up the tower to what used to be Aedion’s room. It’s strange for Gavriel to imagine his son, as a child, in such a high-up and isolated room instead of in one closer to the ground. Surely that would have been better for a child than the constant climbing and descending of stairs. But in terms of defence it was a good decision. It would give Aedion, and whoever was up the top of the tower, to find a route of escape before they were flooded with attackers.

He’s quiet, so quiet, when he slowly opens Aedion’s door. He peeks in, and his heart stops.

The bed is empty.

 

“Aedion?” Gavriel tries to keep his voice level as he opens the door fully. “Aedion?”

 

And then, above his head, is a muffled thump. Startled, Gavriel looks up. The only thing above Aedion’s room is a small attic space used for storage.

 

“Aedion?” Gavriel calls again, calm now that he is certain as to where his son is.

 

Yet no sound comes from above his head. Sighing, Gavriel goes to where the man-hole has unfortunately been left open, pulling himself up with ease. The top part of the tower is dark, illuminated by only a small light in the corner. Gavriel side steps a few of the wooden chests and boxes that have been left to collect dust and webs, instead staring at the corner of the space that Aedion has taken refuge in.

Many of the chalk drawings on the wall are old. Old, and faded, and barely there anymore thanks to times cold sterilisation of the past. They’re mostly stick-figures, crudely structured lines that bare the unsteadiness of a child’s hand. Broken pieces of chalk line the floor, only a few coloured but a majority of it white and crumbled. The wall itself is a mural of people and items, some happy, some devastated and some just the simple drawings of animals that children find themselves fascinated with. One drawing contains two children, one bigger than the other, both their names nearly invisible thanks to how many years have passed. Yet it isn’t difficult to guess who the two children are.

This must be where Aedion went as a child, where he snuck too, when he wished to do and worry about nothing. Where he finally committed the acts of a child, free of the pressure of becoming a warrior to protect his future queen.

And Aedion himself is sitting in the corner, staring t all the drawings with a forlorn look, a lantern sitting by his side. His head rests against the wall as he takes in the images, eyes lidded.

 

“Hey,” Gavriel quietly approaches, and sits opposite Aedion. “Are you alright?”

 

Aedion’s eyes flick to him, and then back to the drawings. “I’m an adult now, don’t worry.”

 

Gavriel blinks. “So soon?”

 

Never mind that it took him half-an-hour to process what was on the drawings. Never mind that he’s failed to notice how late it actually is, and how slowly he was walking towards the room. Never mind that the candle has melted low.

 

“Once you left the room something triggered me,” Aedion rubs at his face tiredly. “I don’t know what, but the shock managed to bring most things back. Except from before I fell down the stairs; I don’t remember much about that. Was it during the day or night?”

 

“Night,” Gavriel keeps his voice soft, analysing his son. “It wasn’t Silvia, it was one of my old generals seeking revenge.”

 

Aedion nods slowly, seeming to accept the fact with ease.

 

“Did you draw all of these?” Gavriel carefully circles a drawing of a cat with his fingers, wary not to smudge it.

 

“Yes,” Aedion sighs, closing his eyes. “When I was younger I would steal chalk and come up here to draw.”

 

“Why didn’t you just draw with pen and paper?” Gavriel questions. “Ask for supplies?”

 

“It would have been a waste of time and supplies,” Aedion’s voice leads Gavriel to question whether those words are truly his son’s or simply an echo of past denials.

 

A guilty pleasure, that’s what this place was. “Did you come up to draw when you were sad?”

 

Aedion’s jaw clenches. “Will you ever stop asking those kinds of questions?”

 

“No, Aedion,” Gavriel blinks. “No, I won’t. Do you remember what you drew earlier?”

 

His son’s look suggests that he does not.

 

“They were horrific,” Gavriel bites out, straining to keep his voice in line. “Aedion, you need to talk about this. If not me then someone else-“

 

A growl cuts him off, Aedion baring his teeth. “I’m dealing with it fine.”

 

“But you’re _not_ ,” Gavriel can’t keep the growl out of his own voice. “Gods, Aedion, you’re not!”

 

“You don’t get to decide that!”

 

“I’m not deciding it, I’m noticing it!” And they’re both standing, when did they both stand? “Do you realise how much of a shock it was to look at you over this past day and notice that I’ve never seen you smiling for such a long period of time? That you’ve never looked so free? And that was with your memories _gone_ , Aedion. That was with everything you are now stripped away.”

 

“And what am I now?” Aedion’s eyes take on a familiar, darkened tint.

 

Gavriel says nothing.

 

_“What am I?”_

 

“It’s killing, Aedion!” Gavriel snaps, the candle-light flickering over them both. “You have no idea how much it is absolutely killing me to see you struggle so much with simply living!”

 

“I’m _fine!_ ” Aedion snarls.

 

“You’re _broken!”_

 

Aedion swallows, leaning back. “I’m not.”

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel’s voice turns soft and pleading, strained as he shakes his head, “you have to realise that you can’t simply make yourself alright by saying that you are.”

 

“I am not broken,” Aedion spits the words with venom. “Nothing broke me unless I let it, and I didn’t.”

 

“It doesn’t work that way,” Gavriel’s voice is devastatingly soft.

 

“Fuck you,” Aedion’s voice matches the volume of Gavriel’s, and it’s all the Lion can do not to reach out for his son as Aedion stalks towards the man-hole and disappears from view.

 

And the Lion is left with nothing but broken pieces of chalk.

 

~~~

 

“Fuck,” Aedion breathes in the cold night air, tipping his head up towards the stars. “What do I do?”

 

He hasn’t asked his mother questions in years. Not after Rhoe explained to him that by going into the stars people meant she’d gone to the afterworld, and that Aedion could not speak to her there.

But something about the night, about the speckles of white blood above him, makes it seem just a little less pointless.

 

“What does he want from me?” Aedion frowns at the sky. “What does he expect? I am happy. I’m not broken; I didn’t let anything break me.”

 

‘It doesn’t work that way.’

 

Gritting his teeth as the words flash through his mind, Aedion continues his walk in the gardens. It’s so much easier to breath underneath the sky, surrounded by the very greenery that supplies every breath he inhales. It’s always been easier like this, where he doesn’t need to worry about the walls around him caging in his breath to the point his heart is ready to burst from his chest. Where the air is crisp and clean instead of a burning razor dragging through his throat in a sick act of kindness.

It would be so much easier to make a house from stars and live among the world. And that’s what he and Lysandra shall fight for; a place where they and all the wild people may live. Where the stone walls all open to the wilderness and sky.

It’s a sweet dream.

A sweet dream that a broken male can have no part of.

Shaking the thought from his head, Aedion makes his way towards the gurgling fountain. The steady sounds of the water is soothing, running through his mind and clearing it the way a new flood of water does to a dirtied stream. He peers into the water, barely able to make out the small stones thrown into the water as a substitute of coins.

And he just glances at the face that leers over his shoulder before something grabs the back of his neck and plunges his head under.

 

~~~

 

“It’s been three hours since Fleetfoot tracked Aedion’s scent to the garden,” Aelin growls, her hand running through the thick coat of the very angel in question.

 

“He could have gone into the city,” Fenrys suggests, yet even his voice is uneasy.

 

“Without even coming to me?” Lysandra’s question poses the problem they’ve all been facing.

 

“He could be anywhere,” Gavriel bites out by the fireplace, his hands gripping his biceps tightly.

 

“Did anything happen?” Lysandra asks the court in the lounge room. “Anything that could have upset him? Gavriel, you said he regained his memories. Did anything happen after that?”

 

“I called him broken.”

 

Everyone turns to look at the Lion, both because of the words and because of how his voice breaks. The ancient fae has his head in his hands, his normally golden skin ashen and gray.

 

“You called him broken?” Aelin’s voice has reached a dangerous, quiet tone.

 

Gavriel sucks in a shaking breath. “We… we were talking, about how he’s been functioning, and I just… I called him…”

 

To his and everyone’s surprise, Lysandra moves forward to place a hand on his arm. “I’m sure that in whatever context you said it to Aedion you did not say it out of cruelty.”

 

Swallowing, Gavriel shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have said it at all.”

 

“We’ll find him,” Rowan growls under his breath. “We found tracks leading down into the forest by the slums. It looks like Aedion put up a fight.”

 

“Let’s go hunt,” Aelin stands.

 

~~~

 

“Where’s Gavriel and our general?”

 

Aedion smirks at the fae man in front of him, never mind the fact that he’s tied to a tree. “You mean the bastard that tried to break my neck down a flight of stairs? You may want to check a witch’s stomach.”

 

A fist cracks against his jaw, adding to the flourish of bruises. And, yep, that’s not good for his head. Things shouldn’t be blurring so much.

Instead of making a sound Aedion simply spits out the blood flooding his mouth, throwing his captures another rakish grin. The two fae males snarl as they circle him, one already holding a knife in his hand.

As if that scares him.

 

~~~

 

“I’m going!”

 

“Evangeline,” Lysandra winces, “it would really be safer if you stayed here and-“

 

“I’m going,” Evangeline scowls. “I’ll stay with Gavriel.”

 

“Gavriel’s already gone,” Vaughan states, nodding to the space where the said male once was.

 

“Shit,” Rowan stares.

 

~~~

 

“You two are idiots.”

 

The fae males stop in their pacing to glance over at Aedion, who does nothing but sag against the tree with his eyes closed.

 

“Keep your mouth shut, half-breed,” one of the snarls.

 

Aedion lip curls up at the slur. “Half-breed? I see. And you know who my mother is?”

 

“Evalin’s cousin,” one of the males frowns.

 

“Right,” Aedion cocks his head to the side. “And why would you wish to mess with the male she deemed worthy enough to lay with her?”

 

The second male scowls. “He couldn’t have been that good of a male to fuck a princess then leave.”

 

Aedion pauses. The two men pause. Silence stretches between them.

 

“Fuck. I let myself be captured by two idiots.”

 

“Excuse me?” One male marches forward, roughly fisting Aedion’s hair in his hand and tugging it to the side. “Why the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

 

“Two idiots who aren’t smart enough to realise how much trouble they’re in,” Aedion drawls the words, as if bored. “Apparently, you can’t even tell when a lion is standing behind you.”

 

Both males freeze, and slowly turn their heads.

 

Gavriel crosses his arms. “Granted, I’m not a lion right now, but I believe my son has given you the general idea.”

 

“Son?” One of the males croaks.

 

“Son,” Gavriel eyes Aedion’s bloodied form. “Doesn’t look like you cut him, but judging by the state of his face and body I suppose you must have gained a few punches and kicks. Not enough to kill, but to hopefully gain information. Efficient. Brutal. Good work.”

 

Both males seem rooted to the spot at the utter malice lacing Gavriel’s voice. Aedion, for his part, just closes his eyes and leans against the tree once more, head too heavy to watch the proceedings.

 

“Now tell me,” Gavriel takes a step forward, his low baritone a quiet rumble, “what made you think that I would be in a lenient enough mood to forgive someone for harming my son in such a way.”

 

“We didn’t know,” one of the male gasps, dropping his knife and holding up his hands. “We’ll go quietly.”

 

“Yes,” Gavriel narrows his eyes. “You will.”

 

Yet someone with extremely keen eyes could have sworn that disappointed briefly flashed across his face if they had been there to witness it. Granted, Gavriel gives no sign of such regret, simply moving with a cold detachment that leaves both males trembling in their boots as he kicks them both to the ground and firmly ties their hands behind their back.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel releases his son’s name as a relieved sigh as he unties to ropes connecting the said male to the tree. “Are you alright?”

 

He sways on his feet slightly, wincing, but Aedion simply wipes the blood away from his mouth. “I have a headache like you wouldn’t believe.”

 

Sagging in relief at the attempt of humour, Gavriel braces a hand on his arm. “Come back with me. Aelin will collect these two soon enough.”

 

Aedion eyes the two males dropped on the ground, rendered entirely immobile by the ropes, their faces in the dirt. “Alright.”

 

They walk off, Gavriel keeping one hand firmly between Aedion’s shoulder blades lest should he stumble or suddenly lose consciousness. They end up only a few meters away before a spark of an idea enters Aedion’s head.

 

“Wait, I need to at least kick on of them.”

 

“You’re bleeding! Do it tomorrow!”

 

“Fine,” Aedion glares, allowing Gavriel to pull him along. “I didn’t think you could show that much restraint.”

 

Pursing his lips, Gavriel keeps his gaze straight ahead. “If they had not surrendered then their fate would have been much different. But as it is I cannot simply murder people who have thrown down their weapons and are willing to cease harm.”

 

“There’s the honour side we all adore,” Aedion sighs as the palace comes into view. “How nervous is everyone?”

 

“Beside themselves,” Gavriel looks to Aedion. “As I was. What happened?”

 

“I was in the gardens, and they surprised me from behind,” Aedion growls lowly under his breath. “I was still feeling off so it didn’t take that much effort.”

 

“I’m sorry I called you broken,” Gavriel’s voice is as soft as it’s ever been, even as his eyes stay firmly ahead of them.

 

He’s prepared for the silence that follows. Neither of them exchange words, even as they walk through the gardens, coming closer and closer to their final destination. A part of Gavriel screams at him, berates him, for making such a horrendous mistake. He called his son broken; now he will never be allowed in his life. He will never be allowed to take over the role of being Aedion’s father and he’ll never get to watch him and Lysandra marry and never go with them to Caraverre and-

 

“I think I am broken.”

 

Gavriel pauses, stopping where he stands. Aedion continues on for another step before also halting, turning to look back at his father. Clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, the Lion goes over the quiet, broken words in his head once more.

 

“You’re not.”

 

Scoffing, Aedion looks ready to turn away once again. “So it’s alright for you to call me broken but the moment I do it’s an issue?”

 

“No, Aedion,” Gavriel swallows, “I was wrong-“

 

“But you’re _not_ ,” Aedion strains the last word, his voice cracking just slightly. “You’re _not_ . Don’t you get it? You’re not supposed to be right about these things but you _are_. I’m broken and crumbling like the damn chalk because there’s not enough of me left and I’m not going to be enough and-”

 

Gavriel’s eyes widen as the way Aedion’s breath picks up speed, and he reaches forward to grabs his shoulders. “Aedion, cub, calm down. You’ve had a bad week, a bad night, and above anything else need food and water.”

 

“But you’re right-“

 

“Maybe,” Gavriel cuts through, his voice steady and strong. “Maybe in some ways. You are hurt, Aedion. You have been hurt badly and put through trauma I would not wish upon anyone, much less a child forced to fight in a war. But I was wrong when I said you were broken. If you were truly broken then you would not care so much if you were.”

 

“I-“

 

“No,” Gavriel shakes his head. “I can see it in your face, Aedion, and no. You are not broken. I have many regrets in my long life, but I can tell you now I have nearly been as ashamed or wrong as when I said that to you. Do you understand that? I am proud that you are my son. The moment Silvia came I announced you were my son. I state it to anyone who will listen because I am _proud_ of it. You are not broken. You are hurt, and attempting to rebuild yourself into something different than you once were, but you are _not_ broken.”

 

Sucking in a deep breath, Aedion ignores the liquid rolling down his face, slowly composing himself and looking towards the palace once more. “I’m tired.”

 

The words hold so many implications, so many different meanings. “I know, Aedion. We’re nearly there. You’re nearly home.”

 

The word ‘home’ seems to create a shudder that rolls through Aedion’s body, his shoulders sagging in relief. Gavriel gently guides him towards one of the back doors accessible by the garden, not at all surprised by the fact that Lysandra is already running towards them. Her green eyes flash as she scents Aedion’s blood, immediately holding herself back from colliding into him as she assesses his injuries. As she assesses the tears.

 

“Are you alright?” She places one hand over his heart, tone so gentle that Gavriel looks away.

 

Cupping her hand in his own, Aedion kisses her palm. ‘Tired.”

 

Those hard emeralds soften. “I know. We already have the healers ready. Gavriel, can you tell Aelin and Fenrys where the… assailants are?”

 

It’s clear that a much worst word was thought of, and seeing how claws still peek at the edge of her fingers Gavriel bows his head. “Of course. Make sure Aedion gains some rest.”

 

“Aedion can hear you two,” the demi-fae raises a brow, earning a relieved sigh from Gavriel and an elbow to the ribs from Lysandra.

 

“We’ll patch you up,” she assesses him, “and assure whoever did this knows the consequences.”

 

It even causes shivers to run down Gavriel’s spine, those cold words spoken by a wild beast ready to hunt her prey. Still, he stays and watches as Lysandra leads Aedion down the hall, one arm wrapped around his waist as she helps support him. It’s good that Aedion has someone he relies on to be weak around, that he trusts to hold him up.

yet Aedion looks over his shoulder, for a brief moment, something questioning passing over his face.

 

Yet he simply follows Lysandra, even as he calls back out, “thank you, Father.”

 

Something in the Lion’s chest stops, pausing before once again continuing its rhythm. The rest of his body and his mind takes a little longer to process the words that have been spoken. Once he understands he covers his face with his hands and draws in a long, ragged breath.

Worth it.

Every piece of hell they’ve fought through has been worth it.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I really torture Aedion, don't I?
> 
> As always I take requests and I LOVE comments!


	18. Whisper, Mister, Bash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old member of the court makes a reappearance and family issues are aired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Enjoy!

 

21.

 

“Aedion…” Evangeline bites her lip, leaning forward to peek at the office door, “how do we get Aelin to play?”

 

Smirking, the Wolf of the North glances back at his partner in crime. “Simple, dear lady. What’s one thing Aelin never says no to?”

 

“There’s a lot, Aedion.”

 

“True. But I was thinking along the lines of a _challenge_.”

 

Evangeline slowly smirks, her flower crown slipping down slightly. “How do we get her interested?”

 

“Roman’s playing. I’m going to assume that’s enough of an incentive,” Aedion whispers back. “So is everyone else. She’s the last we need to convert.”

 

“We need to hurry,” Evangeline glances towards the window. “Gavriel and Lysandra are holding down the fort but Fenrys is quick at making snowballs and Elide is ruthless.”

 

“She is, that dark little angel,” Aedion narrows his eyes. “Alright. We just need to walk in there, and convince her to join us.”

 

Nodding, Evangeline stands with him and they walk around the corner to knock on Aelin’s door. Once receiving an answer they swing open the door and step inside.

Both are met with a face full of snow.

Evangeline shrieks, Aedion copying the sound before grasping his bearings and swearing colourfully.

 

Aelin raises her brow, a single ball of snow still in her hand as she sits behind her desk. “As if I don’t know when my whole damn court is having a snowball fight.”

 

The queen does, however, have enough sense to flee the room as the two chase after her. Aelin bursts through the doors, sprinting across the snow the best she can to join Rowan and Fenrys behind a walk of snow. Vaughan, Elide and Lorcan sit behind another. Evangeline and Aedion join Lysandra and Gavriel behind their own snow fort, the two of them shooting the clumps of ice towards Aelin as she runs.

 

“You have more people!” Fenrys snaps over the wall once Aelin dives behind him.

 

“Evangeline is tiny! She only counts as half a person!” Aedion shouts back, then splutters around another mouthful of snow. “Evangeline!”

 

“I’m perfectly averaged sized!” The young girl smirks, already accepting another clump of snow from Gavriel, who outrightly laughs at his son’s misfortune.

 

Yet stops as Aedion tackles him to the ground, shoving snow down the back of his shirt. In a tumble they sprawl out from behind the make-shift fort, wrestling to see who may end up on top. Gavriel pushes Aedion down, only for his son to be surprisingly quick in knocking Gavriel off his balance with a tug to a foot or hand. The blur of gold against the white snow comes to a stop once control is gained.

 

“Aedion!” Gavriel both at once barks and laughs, wrestling his son down in the snow. “Give up!”

 

“Never!”

“Mutiny!” Evangeline declares, pointing at the two. “We’re outnumbered now!

 

“We didn’t need them!” Lysandra grins, handing her another snowball just as Aedion manages to squirm from under Gavriel’s grasp.

 

“Off!” Gavriel chokes through his laughter, pushing Aedion to the side.

 

Cackling, Aedion allows him to do so, rolling across the snow. “I needed revenge.”

 

“Evangeline hit you!” Gavriel kneels and looks down at the still sprawled-out Aedion in bemusement. “Why me?”

 

“But you laughed!” Aedion grins up at him, hands by his head and expression entirely open with joy. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hand her that snowball.”

 

Instead of replying, the Lion picks up a handful of snow and drops on Aedion’s face. Spluttering, Aedion sits up, watching as his father dives behind the wall of ice with Lysandra and Elide.

Leaving Aedion exposed on the other side.

Each team stares at him, everyone slowly raising an arm to prepare their onslaught.

 

“Well,” Aelin drawls, Fenrys handing her another ball. “Now that your little father-son moment is over, I suppose we can get back to it.”

 

Eyes widening, Aedion glances at everyone ringed around him. “Wait-“

 

No one can hear his next words as he’s buried under all the snow.

 

~~~

 

“T-Told you it w-would be fun,” Aedion can’t keep his teeth from chattering as the troops into the warm sitting room with Lysandra.

 

“I have literally never seen you cold,” the shifter blinks at him, watching Aedion pick the armchair closes to both the fire and Gavriel. “And you’ve changed clothes. Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

Ashryver eyes cut towards Rowan, who sits on another couch with Aelin. “F-Fine. I just c-could have sworn some ice was c-colder than the rest.”

 

The king simply smiles and looks away. Rolling his own eyes, Aedion makes no comment on how the chill surrounding him is suspiciously leaving faster than it should be. Kings and cold magic is inevitably a bad mix within a snow war. Aelin herself glances over at Aedion and Gavriel as they murmur to each other, Gavriel making himself a cup of tea and indicating to Aedion whether he wants his own. The smile that adorns Aedion’s face while he shakes his head is a true one.

 

“That was fun,” Elide beams, next to Lorcan on the second couch.

 

Lysandra delicately sits by Evangeline next to the fire, the younger girl leaning back against Fenrys’s large wolf form. Vaughan and Gavriel take up the remaining two armchairs. 

 

“It was,” Aelin spreads out across the couch, feet in Rowan’s lap. “A much-needed break.”

 

“I had no idea you squawked like a hen when hit with snow, cousin,” Aedion grins. “It was quite amusing.”

 

“And you’re a father’s boy,” Aelin retorts simply, settling back as Gavriel chokes on his tea and Aedion glares with a flush. “Be careful with the hen comments, or the cub ones may pop back up.”

 

“Aelin,” Gavriel winces with a grimace. “Please.”

 

“Aelin?” Vaughan repeats, lips quirking up. “Not ‘Your Majesty’? You have been spending too much time with Aedion.”

 

The words cause a light flinch to shoot through Elide, Lorcan, Aelin and Gavriel. Too close, too close to the words they heard sweetly murmured on the beach. Too close to that of the magnificently dark queen that stripped their lives apart. Aedion sends his father a questioning glance, yet Gavriel simply smiles reassuringly in return. Aelin notices that Lion’s change of face and makes no comment.

 

“Well,” Lysandra looks at them all, her hands tangled in Evangeline’s hair, “anyone else want a braid?”

 

“No, thank you,” Aelin sighs, tipping her head back over the arm of the couch, “I like having it loose occasionally. Wait until Rowan’s grows back; you can braid his then.”

 

Smirking, Rowan pinches her calf. “Keep making quips and it may stay short forever.”

 

“Oh gods,” Aedion murmurs, turning away from the two. “They’re staring at each other again.”

 

Gavriel takes another sip of his tea. “I have to say I enjoy the snow. It was always warm in Wendlyn.”

 

“Did you ever go to the capital?” Aedion asks innocently, tilting his head.

 

Gavriel starts at the question. “Of course. The last time was…”

 

The Lion trails off, turning away to swallow another mouthful of tea. But it’s too late. The trap has been sprung.

 

“When you met my mother,” Aedion finishes for him, eyes alight, “and she punched you.”

 

Everyone sits up straighter at that, curious questions and demands of answers being flung out. Gavriel settles back in his seat and sighs, casting his eyes towards the roof as if seeking divine aid.

 

“You never told us about that,” Vaughan mentions, Fenrys whining in agreement.

 

The Lion looks away. “It was a long time ago…”

 

“Story, now,” Aelin smiles.

 

Sighing, Gavriel settles back and prepares himself to tell the tale.

 

~~~

 

The heat, as always, was only a small bother. Gavriel had little to do besides walk through the crowded streets of the city at nighttime, swerving to avoid the occasional person. A fae such as him really should be attracting more attention, yet the beauty of the side streets is that they are easy to slip through. Thanks to the festival the main streets are busy, markets being strung along to display numerous treats and goods.

By all concerns it should be a simple night. It should be easy for Gavriel to make his way to the castle. To deliver a message from Meave concerning the new Demi-fae legislations.

Yet a cloaked figure barreling last him, checking him in the shoulder, makes the situation a little less simple.

Instincts kick in and Gavriel grabs the cloaked figure's hand. The hood falls back, and a face surrounded by a mane of golden hair whips around to glare at him, magnificent eyes fierce and wild as the human woman’s lips curl back into a snarl. Such a ferocious expression for a human.

Stunned, Gavriel has little of a reaction to give when a fist is colliding with his chin.

Swearing, the Lion releases the woman’s hand and she sprints off. The punch had solid power behind it, containing the strong form of someone who knows how to hit.

But it doesn’t knock Gavriel off his feet. It doesn’t stop him from chasing after the stranger. Turning a few corners Gavriel halts, looking at the woman standing next to a stall. Yet her hair is longer and a male stands beside her, the both of them laughing.

 

“Get down, you fool!”

 

Blinking, Gavriel looks to the side and sees the woman kneeling behind a crate. Unceremoniously, she grabs him and yanks him down.

 

~~~

 

“So you were whipped before you even knew her name, huh?” Fenrys muses, back in fae form next to Evangeline.

 

“Well if the story is just going to keep being interrupted then-“ Gavriel makes to stand.

 

“No!” Aelin and Aedion both cry, darting forward as if to strap him down.

 

Blinking, Gavriel sinks back down. “Alright, then.”

 

~~~

 

“You punched me,” Gavriel can only say it blankly, his anger strangely unable to rise when the woman’s attention isn’t even on him.

 

Once again, those eyes dart to him, still as hard as gems. “You grabbed me.”

 

“Because you ran into me?”

 

Then those gems turn molten, softening for a bare moment. “I’m sorry, my reflex was unnecessary and I shouldn’t have done it. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to keep an eye on my cousin.”

 

She starts creeping down the alleyway, eyes on her target, and Gavriel can only stare after her in shock. He’s a giant fae warrior that she punched in the face, and yet he’s been dismissed like a child. The woman had apprehension around her, yes, but the way she held herself…

Wild. Untameable. Someone who would never bow for any other reason than she wanted to. Their difference in species, in status, would most likely mean nothing to her.

 

“Is the female that looks like you your cousin?”

 

Gods, he should stop. He should stop becoming distracted and focus on his actual task at hand, not stalking an innocent woman simply because she has gained his attention.

Yet to his surprise, she throws a smirk over her shoulder.

 

“You’re very perspective,” she nods. “She and her future husband snuck out to spend a night in the town, so I thought I would at least follow to make sure they stay safe.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel nods, yet his brows furrow. “Are they in danger?”

 

If they are, if there could be an attack of any kind, he should be prepared to defend the crowd and whoever may be targeted.

 

“I’d think the future king and queen of Terrasen would always attract attention from unwanted desirables,” the woman squints her eyes to follow the two in question. “I, however, am simply the landless and thrown-less cousin. I have much less pressure to keep up public image than Evalin and Glaston do.”

 

Evalin. Glaston. The young man is most likely Rhoe, crown prince of Terrasen. And the woman in front of him-

 

“Oh, I know who you are, Gavriel,” her eyes flick back to him, drawing him in. “We were told we’d have a visitor. If you could keep our fun to yourself, I’d greatly appreciate that. Those two deserve time together without the pressure of our families, and my cousin’s happiness comes first to me.”

 

She’s young. Younger than Gavriel thought she was. Much younger. The youth in her is apparent, her very being glowing with an unbreakable beauty, yet the way this young woman holds herself, the way she moves and dictates her speech-

Young in the body. Not in soul or mind. That much is evident.

 

“Your cousin and her betrothed,” Gavriel clears his throat, “would be much safer if I accompanied you in guarding them.”

 

Never mind the fact that he is truly captivated by the female in front of him. Such a fierceness held behind such a beautiful figure. Such an untameable, brutal soul.

 

And she looks back at Gavriel, a delighted smile across her own face. “I was just about to ask.”

 

~~~

 

Everyone stares, even Evangeline’s brows furrowed.

 

“So you stalked a young woman you were sexually attracted to-“

 

“No!” Gavriel cuts Aelin off, scowling. “Gods, no. It was more of an attraction to her spirit. She was apologetic for hitting me because it was wrong to do, not to try to save herself or face. It was one of the things I loved most about her; she lied, she kept secrets, yet would never apologise to those who did not deserve it. Did not treat people as more or as less because of their social standing.”

 

At one point Lysandra's hand moved to sit on the arm of Aedion’s chair, and she links their hands together. He strokes his thumb over the back of her palm, glad for the comfort.

 

“So she was watching my mother and father,” Aelin murmurs, looking down into her drink. “Everyone said they were close.”

 

“Sisters,” Gavriel shakes his head. “She loved your mother fiercely.”

 

“Continue, Gavriel,” Rowan prompts gently, tone leaving room for denial.

 

Yet the Lion continues.

 

~~~

 

“You could have brought an actual guard,” Gavriel follows the woman. “Aren’t your own parents worried?”

 

To his surprise, she snorts as she kneels, peeking around the corner of the building. “This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve left the castle unannounced.”

 

“No?” he ducks down with her.

 

“No. I prefer to be outside.”

 

And he can see it, in the way she knows her streets and ducks and dives between the people. He understands the small scars flecking her hands, and how she nods to fishermen when they pass the docks.

This is not some member of the monarch that prefers to sit in her tower forming documents. No, like many of the other royals from the Ashryver line this is someone who prefers to work with her citizens, to talk to the people instead of reading the reports. Both jobs just as crucial as the other, yet there is something satisfying in knowing that there is a young princess who is comfortable enough to walk amongst her people.

 

“Still, they must hold some level of concern,” Gavriel knows he is speaking to a woman, not a girl, but for a princess to spend so much time so often unguarded in any way-

 

“My mother does nothing but gloat about being the descendant of a goddess,” she murmurs flippantly. “And my father is too immersed in the status he gained when marrying her. They would both much rather I play the part they set out for me than make my own decisions. As long as I keep myself pretty in public events they scarcely care.”

 

He can’t help but swallow, regretting his words. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard of parents too absorbed in their social status and image to consider the individuality of their children.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

She turns to him with a look so nothing but pure, innocent confusion. “Why?”

 

He answers with the truth. “Because of what you just said.”

 

And, to his surprise, she leans in closer with a smile and bright eyes. “I don’t need you to pity me. I need you to follow me.”

 

Once again, he swallows and follows quickly as she follows the couple. It surprises him, how many people she nods to as they go. How many of them offer her small smiles and bits of food. It surprises him even more how she passes it all to him, only stealing an occasional bite for herself.

When he first refused, she simply smiles and tells him that she isn’t as hungry as he is.

He didn’t even realise he was starving until she passed him the baked bread slathered in some kind of garlic and butter that the locals cook on their window sills.

 

“You should try the fish,” she peers at her cousin as Evalin grabs the said food from a stall. “It’s magnificent. Grilled perfectly.”

 

He can make no complaints as she swerves her way towards the stall, smiling brightly at the man as he immediately hands her two fish skewered in the sticks, skinned and grilled with an aromatic blend of spices.

 

“Do you need to pay him?” Gavriel considers the coins in his own pocket, one hand already reaching for them.

 

Yet her fingers brushing his wrist stops him. “I helped haul in the net this fish came from. I help handle trading regulations and work with them, and I get free fish. It’s more than enough compensation.”

 

A woman. That’s who he’s looking at. Someone who knows her country, knows her people, and has no fear when it comes to standing beside them.

 

“Thank you,” Gavriel murmurs, “for the food.”

 

Another bright smile. “You’re welcome. Thank you for the extra protection.”

 

Gavriel simply nods his head. It’s a weak excuse; the young woman obviously knows how to defend herself, the very way she walks discloses that information. It shows the knowledge she has over her body and complete control over the movements it makes.

Yet it’s an excuse he’ll gladly allow.

Perhaps it is selfish, the way he’s captivated by her when he doesn’t even know her name. Perhaps it is unfair that most only know the names of her cousins, future rulers to countries, instead of this living star in front of him.

Perhaps it is wrong that he places a hand on the small of her back, leans forward, and asks quietly for her name.

 

~~~

 

“I followed her back to the castle,” Gavriel continues, voice soft, “and we watched Evalin bid goodnight to Rhoe. I must admit that I was hesitant to leave. I was captivated by her in a way I had not been captivated in centuries. A part of me knew it would be wrong to ask for her time when I myself am hundreds of years older. Even if we seemed compatible in a small way a part of my mind said our difference in age made it immoral.”

 

“See?” Aelin nudges Rowan. “He has some concern about being a cradle snatcher.”

 

“I think Aedion is proof that he eventually didn’t,” Rowan replies dryly, ignoring Aedion’s choke.

 

“But?” Lysandra urges Gavriel.

 

“But she demanded that I come to see her the next night,” a smile splays across Gavriel’s face, his eyes still flickering with pain but also joy. “I met her at the secluded beach near the castle. We saw each other often after that. I celebrated her eighteenth birthday with her, had a year in her company. My attention was called for elsewhere but it was simple to steal a little bit of time. She was worth it all… And then she asked me to leave. One day she met me where I was staying. She had spent the night, sat up the next morning, and asked me to leave.”

 

“And you did,” Aedion confirms quietly.

 

Gavriel closes his eyes. “She said that she could no longer continue a relationship with me. At once I wanted to argue, to beg, but she seemed so desperate and torn that the only thing I could do was respect her choices. I never once doubted your mother, Aedion. She was a woman of such conviction that I could only believe her when she said it was for the best.”

 

Silence stretches through the room. As if realising the mood he has created, Gavriel opens his eyes once more and gives a small, secretive smile.

 

“Then twenty-four years later I found out she had gifted me with a hellion.”

 

Everyone stops and stares.

Then Aedion tips his head back and laughs.

It doesn’t take much for everyone else to burst into cackles, following suit. The rest of the evening dies down, family members trickling slowly out of the room to retire for the night. Even Rowan and Lysandra leave at a point, giving Aelin and Aedion space to themselves.

 

“Have you told Gavriel about the male that’s visiting?”

 

Aedion’s eyes cut to Aelin. “No. It doesn’t matter.”

 

Stretching out across the couch, Aelin eyes Aedion. “You know, after everything you’ve already told him Gavriel will be fine.”

 

“It’s already fine, Aelin,” Aedion shrugs. “I haven’t faced that male in years, and after this visit, I doubt I’ll have to again in a while. Besides, nothing really happened.”

 

Eyes alight, Aelin growls. “I remember when we were children. I remember the things that bastard would say.”

 

“Just words.”

 

“You’ve tackled people over less.”

 

“Why are you so concerned about this?” Aedion allows some tension to creep into his voice. “Why are you always so insistent that I tell Gavriel everything?”

 

“Because he’s your father,” Aelin’s voice lowers.

 

“You’ve made that clear,” Aedion resists gritting his own teeth. “I don’t need to go to him for every little thing.”

 

“Yes, you do.”

 

“But I don’t!”

 

“You have a father!” Aelin snarls, standing suddenly. “You have a father and you’ve spent months denying him and pushing him away and even now, when you two roll in the damn snow together, you still seem to take it for granted that you have him here!”

 

Lips clamping shut, they both stare at one another. At once they both sink back down into their seats.

 

“I don’t take it for granted,” Aedion swallows, looking down at his own scarred hands. “I still have too many nightmares about when he walked through the gates. Do… Does it seem like I take him for granted?”

 

Giving an empty laugh, Aelin slinks back in her own seat. “Much less now than it did at the start. In the beginning, I was ready to turn him away and out of Terrasen if you gave the word.”

 

“Shit,” Aedion rubs at his face. “I did hate him, but not after the gates…”

 

“I know,” Aelin all at once seems tired. “I could tell. I think Gavriel could as well.”

 

“Rhoe should be here.”

 

Aelin’s silence is enough of a confirmation. Aedion stands and sits by her side. They rest against each other, looking into the fire.

 

“I wish he was here,” Aelin’s voice remains hoarse.

 

“So do I,” Aedion closes his eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve appeared ungrateful.”

 

He can feel Aelin’s head rest against his shoulder. “For you and Gavriel it’s different. I just can’t help but be envious occasionally.”

 

Breathing in deeply, Aedion releases it in a long sigh. Neither knows what to say, simply sitting together inter-shared warmth.

 

“I’m not going to tell Gavriel,” Aedion breaks the silence, “because it doesn’t matter. And I know I’ve said that before, but compared to everything we’ve done and who I am now that male truly holds no significance.”

 

Aelin huffs against his side. “Fine. But I’m burning him if anything happens.”

 

“Well, of course, that’s not in question.”

 

“Prick.”

 

“Fire-breathing-bitch-queen.”

 

The fire is long dead by the time they leave the room.

 

~~~

 

“Vaughan,” Aedion eyes the male, “why are you following me?”

 

The dark-haired male gives a simple shrug. “I’m here to greet my friend.”

 

Friend. Vaughan is greeting a friend the same time Aedion is greeting an old fae male that used to aid in his training in the castle. And they are both meeting this person by the outdoor training rings.

By the gods, let it be a coincidence.

 

“He’s a fae that was trapped in his animal form; I met him up in the mountains.”

 

Gods be damned.

 

“Perfect,” Aedion mutters. “Perhaps you’d like to greet him, then?”

 

Vaughan sends him a questioning look. “He’s one of your old trainers. I know that Gavriel, in fact, was looking forward to meeting him. I’m sure he and the others are keeping an eye out.”

 

Perfect. Just as perfect as the figure strolling towards them. A gleaming smile, warm blue eyes, short hair that’s peppered thanks to age. A man the same height as Aedion, who holds a calm and gentle tone and throws smiles as easily as words.

Aedion has to resist tackling him. It would do nothing but make him owe Aelin ten gold coins if he jumps before the three-day mark is up.

 

“Aedion,” the man smiles.

 

And, with as much force as he can muster, Aedion smiles back.

 

~~~

 

Nevis seems to have no trouble with fitting in with the rest of the court. Vaughan, for once, shows immense joy at having a friend present (he laughed. He laughed without prompt. The court was shocked). Frustratingly enough, Nevis himself easily falls into patterns with everybody. He easily describes the old tales of Terrasen, shows humility in front of the new king and queen, and sits with Gavriel to discuss Aedion’s training as a child.

The last point, Aedion is not so pleased about.

 

“Angriest little thing you’ve ever seen,” Nevis chuckles, shaking his head. “You could make him clean out the stables for weeks and nothing would change.”

 

“I cannot lie and say that temper doesn’t run in either side of the family,” Gavriel sends a soft smile to both Aedion and Aelin, the two of them easily smiling back.

 

“Gods, and he was stubborn!” Nevis continues, laughing. “We had to try to break him in like a horse almost every lesson!”

 

Aedion’s eyes flick away at that statement, and Aelin purses her lips. Rowan notices the change in his mate and at once wishes for Lysandra’s presence. If anything was occurring with Aedion and Aelin then the two of them together would most likely be able to lend aid. But the conversations flow on smoothly, and damn it all, by the end of it Aedion himself begins to question whether Nevis is a changed male. It is possible, after all, for people to change. Should anyone recognise that, it is the people of the Terrasen court.

Perhaps he’s jumped to conclusions. Nevis may be completely different, and if he is then they should be rejoicing at having an old court member back.

 

~~~

 

It’s the annoying, itchy little remarks that plague his skin like bug bites. They cause it to crawl and sting, squirming under the surface to the point where they nearly get a rise from Aedion.

 

“Boyo always had trouble with the spear.”

 

“I remember when Rhoe had to pull him off Ren-“

 

“I’m telling you now, Gavriel, you should be thankful you missed hearing the language this boy would use-“

 

The incessant little comments that would be flung. All with a good-natured smile and laugh, occasionally a clap to Aedion’s shoulder.

Aggravating, but hardly fatal. None of them near as scathing as the comments that were made when Aedion was a child. So he brushes them off, much the same way Vaughan brushes them off. It shouldn’t be as bothersome as it is to see the male, one of his father’s closest companions, approve every little comment Nevis makes about Aedion.

He’ll never admit it’s hurtful. He and Vaughan weren’t the closest, not like Aedion and Rowan or Fenrys and Aelin, but he is a member of the court and someone similar as an uncle to Aedion nevertheless. At one point the idea of him defending Aedion seemed ridiculous; it’s hard to pinpoint when it became almost an expectation.

But Aedion can ignore it. Within the next week, he passes off every comment, made both in public and private, and keeps from growling at Vaughan whenever he mentions Nevis in a bright light. Distractions work, for the most part, directing the violent intent elsewhere.

 

~~~

 

Sweat trickles down Aedion’s back, Rowan relentlessly moving forward with the dulled training sword. In the rings to his left and right the other cadre members, all minus Gavriel, work on an assortment of different weapons. Aedion against Rowan, Fenrys against Lorcan, and Vaughan standing a little ways away with Nevis as they chat.

So maybe every member isn’t training, but the very fact that they assumed Aedion would be joining him, that it was less of an invitation and more of a reminder, sparks a rare kind of joy in the demi-fae. It’s made even more joyous by the fact the only reason Gavriel is late is because he is aiding Evangeline in finding a lost book. The relationship between the two is one to smile at.

 

“You need to work on guarding your left flank,” Rowan comments as he pulls away. “You’re lazy with that.”

 

Aedion can only nod, gulping down mouthfuls of air himself. It is satisfying, however, to see a single bead of sweat roll down Rowan’s neck. To know that he caused some kind of strain on the ancient fae, no matter how small.

 

“Vaughn!” Rowan calls out, grabbing the males attention. “Come here and train! Aedion, spar or stand with Nevis, your choice.”

 

Oh, the king knows something is between those two. He made it clear that Nevis would be joining, and hasn’t pushed Aedion to attend functions with the male once. It causes the demi-fae to narrow his eyes. If Aelin would tell anyone of their childhoods, it would be Rowan, yet it is unlikely that he would react in such a protective way.

Unless he knows something is wrong, but not to what extent.

Gods forbid if Gavriel gained a sense of a problem. They’d be sitting on couches and trying to talk again.

 

“You’ve improved tremendously,” Nevis murmurs once Aedion comes to stand by him. “Rhoe would be proud, Aedion.”

 

“Thank you,” Aedion keeps his eyes focused on the movements of the fae in front of them.

 

“I see you still haven’t mastered the art of looking at people when they’re speaking to you, eh, boy?” Nevis’s voice holds an amused tinge to it. “Ah, never mind any of that now. You know, we all had an inkling your father had to be some kind of strong fae.”

 

“Really?” Aedion glances at him, interest slightly piqued.

 

“Of course, you were a prize in the ring,” Nevis clicks his tongue. “And if you’ve got a good runt that means you must have a good stud, especially when the bitch is a bit poor-“

 

Flesh slams against his mouth, pushing the words back in, and Aedion has no trouble dropping onto the snow-covered ground to continue to slam Nevis with hits. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he registers the other yelling and running towards them. Yet the state he’s in, the pure fury he’s consumed by, allows little room for any of that to pass through. When Vaughan tackles into his side, pushing Aedion off Nevis and into the snow, he shows no resistance.

 

“Gods, boy!” Nevis spits blood onto the snow, turning to glare. “Just as much of an animal as you were as a child!”

 

They should come, the retorts, but once again Aedion is simply an angry child standing in the training rings, ignoring the snickers of the older children as he’s berated for his behaviour.

  
“I would have thought you’d learn to control your damn temper!”

 

Being chastised for being too volatile.

 

“But still like a beast!”

 

For being too rough when he was simply playing or excited.

 

“If you’re a half-breed than fine, but if you don’t even have a speck of magic then learn to keep your fists back!”

 

Standing there, taking in all the words, knowing that the fae children who had magic and clear bloodlines were laughing behind their hands at him.

 

“Over ten gods damned years and still no one’s been able to whip a lesson into you!”

 

So he lies there, pinned under Vaughan, unable to do much but stare up at the male spitting words back down at him. He’s young again, young and angry but unable to move and scream and roar because the human skin made of lies he wears is too tight but still unbreakable. And Vaughan most likely keeps him pinned because he knows of Aedion’s rage. Because there’s no point in letting a half-breed tear into his friend.

Yet Vaughan has stiffened.

Lorcan’s eyes have darkened.

Fenrys’s lips are curled back in a snarl.

And Rowan stares at Nevis with his harsh green eyes.

 

“What the hell did you just say to my son?”

 

And Gavriel, standing by the doorway, looks out at all of them with a calm expression. Aedion doesn’t look up, heat already entering his face at the situation. Bested by his own anger, unable to control himself and show a speck of restraint. And here’s Gavriel, who at the most will send Nevis away with a roar, reducing Aedion once again as a cub who stands behind the Lion.

 

Yet it is Vaughan who immediately rises off Aedion and takes a step closer to Nevis. “He said that Aedion is a beast and an animal.”

 

Aedion can hear Nevis’s heartbeat pick up.

 

“Don’t,” Lorcan’s joins in, voice deathly quiet, “forget half-breed.”

 

And again, it speeds. he can smell the apprehension leaking off of the man, and something warm flushes in his chest at the way the fae predators begin circling him. Something sadistically happy at the way Nevis nearly seems to shake.

 

They can all hear him swallow. “My temper bested me. The words I said were far, far out of line. I apologise.”

 

The last part is directed at Aedion as he slowly stands. Brushing the wet clumps of snow from him, Aedion flicks his eyes up to look at Nevis. Again, that soft, regretful look is back on his face as Nevis presses the flat of his hands against his thighs, unable to look Aedion in the eye.

 

“I was wondering, Nevis,” Fenrys shows his teeth in a way that is not a smile, leaning in close to the male, “were you one of the males who tried to whip a lesson into Aedion? I’m a little stuck on your wording.”

 

“There have,” Lorcan grumbles deeply, “been a few choices of phrase that seem strange.”

 

“Yes,” Rowan refuses to remove his gaze from the male, “There have been. You quite enjoy calling Aedion a boy, and commenting on his abilities, don’t you Nevis?”

 

“I was one of his trainers,” Nevis croaks. “It’s to be expected that I still-“

 

“Still feel the need to disrespect someone of higher rank?” Lorcan growls, teeth showing.

 

Aedion can only blink at the way everyone has crowded around the man, all except for Gavriel, who has come to stand by Aedion. Nevis himself has shrunk, becoming a smaller shell of the male he once was when Aedion was a child. A small scar on his right calf draws Aedion’s attention, remembering the bite of leather against his skin.

But Nevis is small.

So small.

And Aedion is larger than the mountains they stand in.

 

“Escort Nevis out,” Aedion reins his voice back into that of the Wolf of the North.

 

Something in the male's face goes slack. “Aedion-“

 

“Come back when you learn how to respect your generals.”

 

Then that vicious bite is back. “Rhoe would be ashamed-“

 

To everyone and yet no one’s surprise, it is Gavriel’s fist that slams into Nevis’s mouth. The male falls back, cold, and it takes no signal for Lorcan help Gavriel in dragging him away. Left alone with Fenrys, Vaughan and Rowan, Aedion can only try to keep track of what has just occurred.

Vaughan. Vaughan who is wincing and unable to look Aedion in the eye. Vaughan who laughed at the comments Nevis made until the male finally stepped over the line.

 

“He,” Rowan states, “is a bastard.”

 

“Aelin told you?” Aedion sighs.

 

“About the comments he continuously made when you were a child?” The king snorts. “Of course.”

 

And there’s the concern in Fenrys’s eyes. “Comments?”

 

Aedion can only shrug. “In Terrasen fae were more known for their magic. To be a mix-breed bastard who apparently had no gifts put you at the bottom of the social ladder to many fae like Nevis.”

 

Lips pulling back, Fenrys’s eyes follow Nevis as he’s dragged away. It’s no secret that the wolf is protective of the queen, that protection slowly extending to Aedion over time with how dear he is to both Aelin and Gavriel.

 

”Fenrys struggled to contain himself the entire time Nevis was here,” Rowan frowns in the direction of the dragged male. “He’s been uncomfortable around him for days. What Nevis has been doing is a disgrace.”

 

Aedion nods slowly. “To insult Gavriel isn’t something you can allow.”

 

Vaughan, Rowan and Fenrys all pause, giving each other quick looks in confusion.

 

“Aedion,” Fenrys tilts his head, “we cannot allow _you_ to be insulted in such a way.”

 

And the Wolf of the North blinks. Then blinks again. It is him, his honour, they are defending. Such a thing from Gavriel and Rowan is to be expected, but the rest of the cadre members? Apparently, the forming bonds weren’t imagined.

 

Vaughan hesitates, then clears his throat. “I’m sorry, that I allowed Nevis to get away with so much. That I did not defend you until you felt a need to defend yourself.”

 

“It’s fine,” Aedion shakes his head. “I explained nothing to you. You couldn’t have known.”

 

Still, the small pang of pain is there. Vaughan laughed, truly laughed, at some of the remarks Nevis made. How well does Aedion know the male? How well does Vaughan truly respect Aedion?

 

“Gavriel and Lorcan have most likely dropped him outside the palace grounds now,” Rowan observes. “We’re done for the day. May as well join the others for dinner.”

 

“Couldn’t agree more,” Aedion smirks.

 

~~~

 

“What comments were made when you were a child?” Gavriel pulls up a chair besides Aedion, the question the first thing from his mouth.

 

Groaning, Aedion lowers a leg of lamb. “Can’t we just have dinner?”

 

“Aedion-“

 

“About me being a ‘mix-breed’ and lacking in magical abilities,” Aedion huffs. “Here, in Terrasen, the fae were more magically inclined and less... wild. I wasn’t very liked for preferring physical ability over magical.”

 

“And Nevis?” Gavriel makes no attempt to hide his displeasure at the males name.

 

“Constant passive aggressive comments and no filter when reprimanding me,” Aedion tears and chews another piece of meat. “I was told multiple times that my species and status of birth were major flaws.”

 

Gavriel’s hand slowly curls on the top of the table, yet the male stays calm. “Right. He will not be allowed back in the palace.”

 

Aedion sends his father an exasperated look. “Did you hand out a drawing of him to all the guards or something?”

 

Gavriel leans back and crosses his arm, seemingly pleased. “No, but Aelin has already ordered a good portion of guards to keep an eye out for him.”

 

Aedion glances down the long table to his cousin, who catches his gaze and wiggles her fingers back at him, a pleased smirk plastered across her face.

 

“Of course she did,” Aedion snorts, shaking his head to hide his own pleasure at the fact.

 

“The others have been livid,” Gavriel sighs, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “All through the week Rowan, Fenrys and Lorcan have been snapping about Nevis. They’re greatly pleased that he’s gone. Vaughan too, even if he was blind to Nevis’s comments before he stepped over the line.”

 

“They have been?” Aedion cocks his head to the side.

 

Looking at his son in surprise, Gavriel nods. “Of course. You didn’t appear angered so we all swallowed down our words, but as soon as you made it obvious that you disliked him they were all practically grinning.”

 

“Were you?” Aedion grins himself.

 

Gavriel shifts and scratches at his neck. “I may have been _slightly_ pleased by his disposal.”

 

“Of course you were,” and, damn it, the smile has taken over now. “Vaughan will most likely miss the presence of his friend.”

 

“Actually, Gavriel sits up, “Nevis tried to get back in an hour ago. Came knocking on the door. Vaughan threw him out and locked it.”

 

It’s an effort not to look at the male in question further down the table. “He did?”

 

“He’s outraged,” Gavriel nods towards the placate male who is picking at his beans. “Look at him. He’s enraged. I’ve never seen him like this.”

 

Vaughan must not be a very expressive male if scowling at his kidney beans is a sign of rage.

 

“Wow,” Aedion deadpans.

 

Gavriel, not catching the tone, nods. “I know. He’s besides himself at what has occurred. He’s tried to apologies three times now.”

 

That catches Aedion’s attention. “He has?”

 

“Of course,” Gavriel nods. “He’s ashamed.”

 

Maybe it’s Gavriel’s influence that causes Aedion to stand, or maybe it’s the fact that they’ve survived so much that things such as this seem trivial. Whatever it is, it spurs Aedion onwards to take a seat besides Vaughan. The male looks at him in surprise.

 

“Aedion,” Vaughan nods.

 

“I don’t know you very well and you don’t know me very well,” Aedion cuts to the point. “We don’t need to pretend to be companions that have known each other for years. But we are a part of the same court, the same family, and one day will be able to say that we are close companions. I fully intend to continue to pursue that, so stop acting like an idiot and just try to stop befriending fucked up bastards. Deal?”

 

“I can’t believe you’re Gavriel’s son,” Vaughan shakes his head, but there’s a small smile there.

 

“That makes two of us,” Aedion stands, ignoring Gavriel’s smile behind him. “I’m joining you all for training tomorrow.”

 

Vaughan frowns. “Were you planning not to?”

 

Again, that warmth in his chest flares as Aedion smirks. “No, I was. Just making my presence clear.”

 

Vaughan nods as if he understands every meaning behind the words, every unsaid message. Perhaps he did, with the way a soft smirk graces his lips once more.

One problem solved. The next; what the fuck Aedion’s supposed to do about Father’s Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! I wasn't able to fill in all requests so those I missed out on will definitely appear in the next chapter, along with any other requests people want to send in. As always, comments loved and treasured as well as requests <3


	19. Dip, Sip, Slap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father's day, talks and fluff with angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am putting trigger warnings here. As much angst as other chapters, but more self-harm/sexual assault content. Please don't feel pressured to read if it may negatively affect you.

21.

 

 

“Aedion,” Evangeline watches from where she sits on his and Lysandra’s bed, eyebrows bunched, “why don’t you just make him a flower crown?”

 

“Because you like flower crowns,” Aedion groans, continuing to pace. “Gavriel doesn’t exactly jump for joy at the idea of them.”

 

“You could get him another sword?”

 

“Evangeline, sweetheart, believe me when I sadly say that it is possible to have too many swords,” Aedion sighs, collapsing next to her. “I didn’t think it was possible, but when they’re the only gift you receive you become tired of them.”

 

Evangeline hums, stretching out beside him. “You could make him a cake? It’s what he did for you for your birthday.”

 

“Gavriel _made_ that?” Aedion sits up, awed. “I didn’t know he could cook like that.”

 

“He did,” Evangeline rolls over onto her stomach, smiling. “Why don’t you cook him something? You’re a fantastic cook. You always use the right spices for meats.”

 

“But that’s hunting and camping,” Aedion bunches his brows. “Baking in an actual kitchen is completely different.”

 

“What’s the worse that could happen?”

 

~~~

 

“THE _ENTIRE DAMN KITCHEN_. THE ENTIRE DAMN KITCHEN UP IN SMOKE. WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU COOKING?”

 

Aedion sags against the dripping wet workbench of the kitchen, still smelling of smoke as Rowan gestures to the oven which is still coughing clouds of black smoke.

In his defence, the entire kitchen was not on fire. Just the oven. And it wasn’t his fault that some fae with water abilities smelt the smoke, assumed the worse and flooded the pace.

 

“I-“

 

“IT’S STILL BUBBLING!” Rowan roars, pointing to the black mass inside the oven. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”

 

Never has Aedion seen Rowan raise his voice to such standards with such an incredulous tone mixed in. But, in the king’s defence, he had been dragged away from Aelin by the alarm. Aelin, and the bed. During a very interesting position.

One that Aedion does not want to go into detail about or ever mentally approach with a ten-foot-long thought stick.

 

“A cake,” Aedion winces at how small and pitiful the words sound compared to the damage of the kitchen.

 

After his outburst, Rowan seems to have nothing to say, just as put out by the simple explanation as the general. The king simple sags against the bench and places his head in his hands. Aedion has seen that look before. Seen it in the eyes of tired commanders and generals who have had enough of their troops bullshit and don’t care if the idiots land on their own swords anymore. Slowly Aedion begins to edge towards the door, eyes darting between it and his king.

 

“Maybe I’ll just-“

 

“Get out.”

 

“Right.”

 

~~~

 

“Aedion, darling,” Aelin combs her fingers through her cousin's hair, “my dear cousin whom I love-“

 

“I’ll never enter the kitchens again,” Aedion groans, leaning against the foot of her bed, head flopping back.

 

“Good,” Aelin deadpans and starts dividing his hair. “Why don’t you just buy Gavriel something?”

 

“Like what?” Aedion allows his eyes to close, mostly to help ignore Rowan, who glare’s at Aedion from where he sits in his favourite chair.

 

He should have figured that Aedion would go straight to Aelin for advice after the kitchens. As soon as he had returned from the mayhem he had found them divulging in chocolate, discussing a multitude of things and Aelin begging Aedion to allow her to do his hair.

Damn sibling/cousin time. He understands their closeness, particularly after they squabble or need comfort, but it would satisfy him greatly to see Aelin kick Aedion out of their room at least once.

But no. Not when they need _comfort_ in the apparent form of food and talk.

 

“I don’t know,” Aelin shrugs. “Maybe some books? You two like the same author.”

 

“But that’s not very thoughtful, and we’ve finished all of his books,” Aedion groans, tipping his head back. “I got him nothing for the holidays, and he seemed to let that pass since we went out later, but I can’t not give him something for Fathers Day.”

 

“Why don’t you just ask him what he wants?” Aelin balances a hair tie between her lips as she speaks, fingers moving rhythmically.

 

“I did. He said he doesn’t care and that he’ll treasure whatever he receives from me,” Aedion growls.

 

Aelin scowls. “I didn’t know he could be such a bastard.”

 

Aedion nods slowly, allowing Aelin’s hands to keep with the movement. Rowan, from his chair, snorts and picks up a book. It earns him a glare from them both.

 

“What have you done so far?” Aelin combs hair with her fingers away from his ear.

 

“I made him flower crowns, but Evangeline likes them and I realised Gavriel wouldn’t want them so I gave them to her. I also made a cake, but you know how well that went.”

 

He ignores Rowan’s groan at the memory.

 

Aelin pauses in her movements and frowns. “But you’re great at cooking?”

 

“Not under pressure!”

 

“I’m sure there are many areas of which you are unable to perform while under pressure,” Rowan murmurs, earning a vicious snarl from Aedion.

 

“Finished,” Aelin ties off the end of Aedion’s hair. “Two braids, each on the side of your head leading to just a simple ponytail.”

 

“Damn, you’re still good at this,” Aedion examines himself in a small mirror Aelin gifts him.

 

“Of course I am,” Aelin wipes her hands against her thighs. “Want to do mine?”

 

“Sure-“

 

“No,” Rowan stands, dropping his book on the side table. “I’m not waiting for you to do her hair. That’s it. You’re coming with me.”

 

Aedion frowns, running his hands through his hair to undo the braids as he stands. “Why?”

 

“Because we’re all going to have a chat,” Rowan opens the door, standing to the side. “Come. Everyone’s waiting in the lounge room.”

 

Trooping out, Aedion ignores the heated looks the king and queen share.

The king will be returning to his quarters after the meeting.

 

~~~

 

“Gods,” Aedion sits on the soft couch with his head in his hands, the cadre members all watching him, “why do I always feel like you’re all calling me in for an intervention?”

 

“Trust me, we’ve thought about that,” Fenrys grins from the fireplace. “But it’s much easier to just meet up with you here.”

 

“We need to discuss Fathers Day,” Vaughan says softly, biting his lip. “Now, we know that your relationship with Gavriel has been growing, but we want you to know that no one expects anything from you, least of all Gavriel. You don’t need to push yourself into doing anything with or for him that you’re not comfortable yet just to please him or because you’re afraid your relationship will fail if you don’t.”

 

It takes a moment for Aedion to look away from the male, wondering how exactly he seemed to know Aedion’s exact thoughts. Instead, the demi-fae focuses more on his clasped hands, swallowing down his words. Too many times his father's old friends have come to talk to him about such things. Too many times have they asked probing questions out of what Aedion assumes is a concern. It raises the question of how they define him; Gavriel’s child or a fellow male.

 

“We know you called Gavriel ‘father’ Aedion,” Rowan contributes. “You haven’t called him since, and if that’s because you’re not ready then that’s fine and-“

 

“Stop,” Aedion growls, leaning back and rubbing at his eyes. “Just… look, I called Gavriel my father because he is my father. I have accepted that fact. I didn’t call him it because I felt pressured or frightened. And I’m not worried about Father’s Day because it’s too much, I’m worried because I _legitimately want him to enjoy it, you bastards._ ”

 

They all pause and frown at him. It makes him itch, the concern in their gazes. He doesn’t need attention on every move he makes, he doesn’t need people continuously ‘checking’ on him and he doesn’t need others assuming his emotions to be ready to step in even when not asked.

 

“Aedion,” Vaughan sinks down into the couch. “Gavriel will be delighted with whatever you do.”

 

“I know he will be,” Aedion sighs, sagging back. “But that doesn’t mean I will be.”

 

Hesitating, Fenrys leans forward. “Boyo, I think that above everything else Gavriel would want you to talk to him more. Particularly about your past.”

 

Talk. That’s all anyone seems to want to do. As if moving forward isn’t important at all; the past is all that needs to be dragged up.

 

“I didn’t come for this kind of discussion,” Aedion fails to keep the growl from his voice. “If you don’t have any ideas as to what I can get him then I’m leaving.”

 

Groaning, Vaughan settles back in the seat. “Aedion, if you take him out to lunch it will honestly be all that Gavriel will talk about for a month.”

 

“He still brags about you taking him along hunting last week,” Rowan shakes his head, mirth in his eyes. “He finds a way to worm it Into every conversation.”

 

“If you spend the day with him Gavriel won’t know what to do with himself,” Fenrys grins. “I’m telling you now. He doesn’t care about gifts; he’ll be over the moon if he knows you put effort into planning a day with him.”

 

Sucking in a deep breath, Aedion nods his head. A day together. That would be suitable for them both and easier than agonising over an item to purchase.

Perhaps a day out would be best, and there’s never any better time to ask than the present.

 

~~~

 

Clenching his fists at his side, Aedion waits for Gavriel’s response. It took more courage than Aedion had expected to knock on his father’s bedroom door and ask if he wished to spend the day (Father’s Day) visiting the city with him. Gavriel continues to stare at him and it shocks Aedion as tears suddenly spring to Gavriel’s eyes and his father needs to turn away for a moment. Very few times has Aedion ever seen Gavriel shed a tear; when they visited his mother’s grave and Gavriel thought Aedion couldn’t see him sneaking out at night to speak to her and once when Aedion told a particularly bad story about his time in the war camps and his father needed to leave the room, Aedion glancing the wetness in his eyes before he left. Tears of gratefulness, love and sorrow.

Aedion can only hope these are tears of joy and not horror.

 

“I- shit - Gavriel?”

 

“I’m fine,” and he is, he smiles at Aedion brightly. “What did you have planned?”

 

There shouldn’t have been such a weight on Aedion’s chest. Or at least, he should have noticed it was there before it was lifted.

 

“Um,” suddenly, Aedion is much more unsure about the situation. “Have you had breakfast?”

 

“No.”

  
“Then breakfast,” Aedion resists the urge to shuffle. “I know a place, by the river bank and near the markets. We could go there and eat and talk?”

 

“That sounds perfect,” Gavriel is still smiling so, so wide.

 

Right. A place for breakfast. It’s alright, Aedion has a plan for this. Lysandra and he went to the nice place a little while ago, the food had been good, so this will also be good. That’s a Father’s Day thing, right? Breakfast? Something along those lines. Aedion’s fairly sure he’s supposed to cook the breakfast himself but after the last accident, it would be better for everyone if he simply bought it.

It doesn’t take long to get to the small shop, picking seats in the courtyard just underneath a tree. It’s pleasant, peaceful, both of them ordering their meals easily and grabbing refreshing drinks.

 

“So…” Aedion taps his finger against the surface of the table.

 

They have absolutely nothing to talk about. At once Aedion is struck with the horror that he’s forgotten all topics of polite conversation. Usually, it flows easily between the two of them, or at least lately it has been, but now that he tries no thoughts come to the general’s mind.

 

“Thank you, for this,” Gavriel has a little smile as if he can guess Aedion’s inner struggle. “I am enjoying myself, Aedion. This is exactly what I could have asked for.”

 

And that makes the prince sink back in his seat in relief. Breakfast was a good idea. A good one. Nothing like the cake.

 

“I’m surprised, in all honesty,” Gavriel admits softly, watching the people bustle up and down the street. “I didn’t think so many people would want to celebrate this day.”

 

“Many will be visiting the graves,” Aedion regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips, yet knows that they are the truth.

 

Too many fathers were lost. He can only thank the gods Gavriel was not one of them.

 

“How do you know this place?” Gavriel asks, watching as their food is placed down.

 

“Lysandra and I made it a mission to see where all the best places to eat are,” Aedion grins. “We have half the city covered.”

 

Chuckling, Gavriel sips his drink. “Of course you do. How has the development of Caraverre been?”

 

“Good. The primary buildings should be ready by next spring,” Aedion spears a berry on his fork. “After that, we’ll just need to work on the movement of supplies and infrastructure.”

 

“How does it feel to be a lord?” Gavriel comes close to smirking.

 

“Not much different from being a price,” Aedion hums playfully. “You know, the grovelling, the compliments, the gifts. The usual pampering.”

 

He can see Gavriel sigh. “I forget how alike you and Aelin are sometimes.”

 

“Now that’s just your fault.”

 

“Trust me, I’m fully aware.”

 

The rest of the meal is smooth, pleasant. It’s still warm enough in the season that they can both shed their jackets, leaving their skin to be warmed by the sun above them. Soon their plates are empty, Aedion and Gavriel just picking at the few crumbs left, not wanting to break their conversation and leave even when it’s obvious they have no further reason to stay.

 

“Rowan missed the opponent,” Gavriel explains a small scar on his forearm. “Well, missed isn’t the right word. He slices right through his arm, had too much force and couldn’t keep from nicking me.”

 

Aedion raises his brows and releases a low whistle. “How many of your injuries are from the others?”

 

“I’d rather not sit here all day trying to work that out,” Gavriel chuckles. “That one looks particularly nasty.”

 

Holding up his arm, Aedion looks to the scar running down the inside of his arm just below the crook of his elbow. “It healed well thanks to my fae blood but I somehow gained an infection. The healers needed to cut it open again to treat it.”

 

Gavriel’s brows furrowed. “It must have been horrible conditions if an infection was actually able to spread.”

 

Shrugging lightly, Aedion places his hand back down. “I didn’t go to the healers the first time, we were preparing for another attack and I just thought it would heal properly by itself. It wasn’t bothering me so I left it.”

 

“It wasn’t bothering you?” Gavriel repeats slowly, raising a brow.

 

“Like you never ignored an injury in the middle of battle.”

 

“That’s different.”

 

“How?”

 

“I’m the parent,” Gavriel sips his drink, “that’s how.”

 

Grumbling, Aedion mutters something along the lines of ‘hypocrisy’ that makes Gavriel smile. So easy. It is so easy to say these things now.

 

“Ready to head out?” Gavriel asks, finally placing down his fork. “We could walk along the river.”

 

“That sounds nice,” Aedion agrees, standing and pushing in his seat. “We just need to stay away from the east end.”

 

“Why?”

 

“They don’t like me over in the east end.”

 

“…Aedion…”

 

“I’ll tell you about it later,” and he really might. “Let’s just head out now.”

 

“Thank you for breakfast,” Gavriel smiles softly, warmth radiating from the action.

 

That warmth seeps into Aedion’s chest, creating a smile on his own face like lava creating a crack in the firm earth.

 

~~~

 

“So it went well?” Lysandra grins, poking Aedion’s back.

 

“You know it did,” Aedion’s voice is muffled by the pillow.

 

The shifter leans over the semi-fae, sitting cross-legged next to Aedion as he’s splayed out on his stomach in sleep shorts and nothing else. It comes to the point where she’s sprawled entirely across his back, leeching his body warmth.

 

“Well?” Lysandra pokes the soft bit of a shoulder again. “No details?”

 

An annoyed huff shakes the body. “We had breakfast. Walked by the river. He told me stories. That’s it.”

 

“You came back smiling,” Lysandra grins, eyes bright with joy. “Really smiling.”

 

Aedion rolls over, throwing her off with a smirk. “Well, I do tend to do that when happy.”

 

“You giggled before.” Those green eyes are flirtatious, teasing now.

 

“I did _not_.”

 

“You did! Before bathing!”

 

“It was a chuckle!”

 

“It was adorable,” Lysandra smirks. “I like it when you’re happy.”

 

That causes his eyes, mouth and heart to soften as he curls his hand around hers. “And I like it when you’re happy.”

 

“You know what would make me even happier?” Lysandra’s voice drops, her breath brushing against his lips.

 

A smirk curls around his lips, one hand drifting up to lay across her hip. “Hmm?”

 

“If you tried to bake me a cake…” soft lips brush against his cheek.

 

“Consider it done, my lady,” Aedion turns his head, a soft smile meeting another.

 

~~~

 

“Just to be clear,” Rowan narrows his eyes, watching Aedion open the oven, “this is the only thing you’re allowed to bake. And it’s only because you have Gavriel’s supervision.”

 

True to his word, the Lion stands to the side, covered in flour and wiping his hands. At his name, he glances up before turning back to the dishes. It had been embarrassing to have to ask for his father’s aid, but considering that the male has over five hundred years of cooking experience it was perhaps the right decision compared to Aedion’s very limited baking experience. At least the cake is a proper chocolate brown instead of the strange black it had been when Aedion put it in the oven days before.

 

“Lysandra ordered us to do it,” Aedion stands and wipes his hands, throwing his father the towel to do the same.

 

“So whatever she says you do?” Rowan raises a brow, eyeing a bowl filled with excess mixture that Aedion walks towards.

 

“Isn’t that how you and Aelin work?” Aedion muses lightly, lifting a spoonful of mixture to his mouth to eat, ignoring both Gavriel and Rowan’s disgusted looks.

 

“I am your king, you know.”

 

“You’re also a-“

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel’s voice floats from the sink, a tinge or warning in the tone.

 

Scowling, Aedion turns back to the smirking Rowan.“You’re also my little cousin's mate, so watch yourself.”

 

“It’s amusing to watch you be censored by Gavriel,” Rowan smiles, knowing that the simple act can spark more rage than a smirk. “I wonder if he’ll wash your mouth out with soap next for stealing from the bowl and swearing as often as you do.”

 

“Both of you,” Gavriel calls out, “can leave the kitchen if you’re going to fight. Aedion, don’t eat all the mixture, I deserve a majority of it. Rowan, leave my child alone. You owe me.”

 

Both fae males scowl at the other before slowly turning away, Rowan leaving the kitchen and Aedion stacking used bowls.

 

“You could not antagonise him, you know,” Gavriel sighs, walking past to pat Aedion on the shoulder.

 

His son sends him a truly bewildered look. “What else would I do to amuse myself?”

 

~~~

 

It turns out that the amusement doesn’t last long. Not when Aedion feels the need to slip back to the kitchens in the middle of the night, pressing a kiss against Lysandra’s temple to soothe her as he slips from between the sheets, flicking away a few chocolate crabs as he does so. Warm water, possibly with a bit of lemon is what he needs. Uncomplicated yet something rare enough that he was never given it during his time in the war camps. Something soothing, even if his cousin scoffs at the idea of warm water with simple lemon. Once he opens to the door to the kitchen he takes a step back, prepared to close it before he’s noticed.

 

“Come on in, boyo. The kettle is already on.”

 

Sighing, Aedion walks in and takes a seat across the table from Fenrys. “Why are you up?”

 

Fenrys sends him a dry look. “I’m fairly certain it’s the same reason you are. Unless you’d prefer that I ask that question to answer yours, your highness?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I don’t know how you are Gavriel’s child,” Fenrys sighs, propping his chin in his hand. “So rude.”

 

“Uh huh,” Aedion mutters, rubbing at his eyes. “I don’t get it either.”

 

The silence that falls is unsettling, Aedion looking into his drink as Fenrys’s dark eyes focus on the table. So much in common, so much to talk about, yet no way to truly speak.

 

“Gavriel is worried about you.”

 

There it is.

 

“Gavriel is always worried,” Aedion mutters, sipping his drink. “Find a new topic.”

 

Fenrys snorts. “You think I don’t know that? It’s just that you’re his main topic of discussion nowadays. Anyone asks where they should go to eat and he immediately suggests places you’ve gone or taken him, and then explains the meals you’ve had. Anyone wants to know directions, bam, a conversation about how good you are at navigating the land. People needing to know information on weapons and immediately the Wolf of the North jumps into the conversation. Don’t underestimate how much of his mind you take up.”

 

Even as he scowls and flushes something squirms pleasantly in Aedion’s chest. “I get it.”

 

“He also mentions how reckless you are. Particularly when it comes to injuries,” Fenrys stares at Aedion from over his rim. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t get some particularly bad hits taken care of because you hoped they’d finish you off.”

 

Their eyes meet, a strong tension filling the silence. How many times will discussions like this continue? How many times will subjects like these be brought into light when all they wish to do is ignore them? The very statement itself causes something sick and hideous to rear itself, to scream and thrash inside of Aedion at the act of being disturbed when it was resting for so long.

 

“Relax,” Fenrys sighs once Aedion’s teeth begin to show, “I’m not gonna pry. I mean, I think you should give Gavriel some more content so he doesn’t keep freaking himself out, but I’m not going to do to you what I’ve had done to me.”

 

“I wish they’d stop,” Aedion growls, placing his cup back on the table. “As if I want to fucking talk about it.”

 

Fenrys eyes him, strangely diluted compared to his usual behaviour. “So you don’t want to talk about it?”

 

“ _No_.”

 

“Alright,” Fenrys shrugs, looking away.

 

They stew in the silence, Aedion confused by his own anger at the outcome as he makes himself a second cup, Fenrys still working at his tea.

 

“Why are you up?” Aedion finally asks, trying to keep from snapping. “Why are you here.”

 

“Same reason as you, boyo,” Fenrys relaxes back in his seat. “I’ve said it before. There’s not much else to say unless you want to talk.”

 

“I _don’t_.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“We don’t need to.”

 

“I know,” a small smile tugs at the corner of Fenrys’s mouth. “It’s alright if you don’t as long as you know that you can.”

 

“It’s fine,” Aedion hisses under his breath, clutching his mug closer. “Sounds like _you_ want to talk.”

 

“I would,” Fenrys gently stirs his spoon through his tea, “but you’ve made it clear that you don’t want to. I understand why you wouldn’t, being reminded of those kinds of things, of the way you were moved and used and-“

 

“ _Stop_.”

 

It’s a halting, sharp word that pauses Fenrys in his tracks. Jaw clenched, Aedion stares at the other male, muscles tense and strained. Fenrys for his part remains lax in his seat, even breaking eye contact to drink his tea. Too far. Too far and too much after the dream he’s just had.

 

“I know,” Fenrys says quietly once he lowers his cup, seeing something familiar in Aedion’s eyes. “Fuck, boyo, I know.”

 

“ _Then stop it._ ”

 

“I would, but I honestly think you’re just trying to pretend it all didn’t happen, and that doesn’t work. Trust me. How many times have you asked Lysandra not to touch you, and vice versa?”

 

Now Aedion’s chair is scrapping back, his mug slamming down on the table as he prepares to leave the room. “Fuck you.”

 

“Well,” Fenrys releases a dry, lifeless laugh, “isn’t that what happened?”

 

Swallowing thickly, Aedion shakes his head, betrayal clear in his eyes. “Why?”

 

“I’m not doing this to be cruel,” Fenrys groans, rubbing at his face, “but I can see that you’re trying to push through things. At least for me, Maeve is dead. You still have people out and walking who laid you down against sheets and hard ground and-“

 

“Gods, _enough_!” Aedion backs away from the table. “Do you- do you get some sick satisfaction out of this? Out of reminding me of it? Is that why you’re making this night more terrible than it already is? Because you can’t stand to see me actually try to function like a normal person?”

 

Something in Fenrys’s expression cracks as if he’s realised the words that have left his mouth. “Fuck, Aedion, no I-“

 

 _“I don’t need you talking to me like this!”_ Aedion’s voice wavers as he braces his hands on the table. “I don’t need you reminding me of all the shit I’ve been through as if I don’t think about it nearly every day!”

 

Shaking his head, Fenrys braces his elbows on the table and places his head in his hands. “Fuck, no, none of this is what I was trying to do.”

 

“What?” Aedion seethes. “What exactly were you trying to do? And I swear to the gods if Gavriel put you up to this-“

 

“He didn’t!” Fenrys lays his hands flat on the table. “ _I_ wanted to talk to you!”

 

“You’ve done a great job at it!” Aedion hates the way his voice shakes. “What _the fuck_ makes you think it’s- it’s alright to-“

 

“Aedion-“

  
“You know! You know so why the hell would you say those things?” Fuck whoever may be listening, fuck keeping his voice down. “You know what it’s like to be violated, so _why do you keep pushing it?_ ”

 

Standing, Fenrys sends Aedion a pleading look. “I shouldn’t have said it, I know, I’m sorry. I just… _I_ need someone to talk to, _I_ need to know I’m not alone in this.”

 

“I’m sick,” Aedion can’t keep his body from shaking, from the words spitting, “of having to act like the adult for those older than me. I missed out on my childhood because of it.”

 

Fenrys’s very self seems to fold slightly. “I know.”

 

“It was never fair.”

 

“I know.” More creases are added to the male.

 

“And you,” Aedion sucks in a breath, “you do not get to do that to me, you do not get to make me feel like shit just so you can talk to me about your fucking feelings.”

 

“Aedion,” Fenrys lowers his voice, truth ringing in his tone, “that’s not what I was trying to do at all.”

 

“Well, you had a fucking good way of showing it,” Aedion snarls.

 

“I’m sorry,” Fenrys sits and places his head back in his hands. “I went about everything wrong.”

 

“Yes, you did,” Aedion crosses his arms, swallowing once again. “If you want to talk then damn talk.”

 

“Right,” Fenrys winces. “I just… I know you’re not alright. And as someone who’s been dealing with this crap for hundreds of years I can tell you that you’re never going to be fully alright.”

 

“Wow, thanks.”

 

“But,” Fenrys pushes on, “there will be days better than others. There will be days when it doesn’t cross your mind, or when you can forget for a moment. These things stick with you and follow you, but they don’t always have to engulf your life. I just want you to know that.”

 

Slowly, Aedion pulls his chair back out and sits down. “I know that.”

 

“Right.”

 

“If you need to talk about shit then don’t insult me first. Just talk.”

 

“I know,” Fenrys’s voice is rough. “It’s just…”

 

They can’t talk. How can they?

 

“I know,” Aedion repeats the older male’s words. “This is not what I was expecting when I wanted a drink.”

 

“…There’s scotch in that cabinet.”

 

“I’ll get the larger glasses, you get ready to talk. I know where Aelin hides the chocolates and, trust me, we’ll need them.”

 

~~~

 

Aedion rests his head against his soft, cool pillow, the gentle fabric fighting against the ache in his head. Lysandra, bless her, left a glass of water on the table by his bed for him. Maybe once he musters the effort he can attempt lifting an arm to drink it. Three knocks sound out on the door, causing Aedion to groan as they slice through his head in slow succession.

 

“Aedion,” Gavriel keeps his voice low and he cracks open the door, “Fenrys told me that you and he would be disabled for the day.”

 

He simply wraps the blanket tighter around himself, moving onto his stomach to bury his head into the pillow to block the small amount of light coming from the doorway. To Aedion’s relief, Gavriel closes the door. To his horror, his father is still in the room and pulling up a chair by the bed.

 

“So…” Aedion inwardly groans at Gavriel’s ‘we’re about to have a discussion’ tone. “You and Fenrys. Most of the scotch and chocolate is gone from this floor’s kitchen.”

 

“We had a bonding moment,” Aedion says, the words heavily muffled by the pillow.

 

“A bonding moment?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“You know,” Gavriel settles into the seat, “you could talk over something other then what we suspect was three bottles of scotch.”

 

“But then,” Aedion turns his head slightly, voice thick and rough, “it wouldn’t have been as much fun.”

 

To his relief, Gavriel is wearing an amused smile as he shakes his head, soft delight in his eyes. “I see. And how are you feeling now?”

 

The Lion has to resist laughing at the long, uncharacteristic whine Aedion releases into the pillow, knowing that it’ll be a torturous sound.

 

“That bad?”

 

Another muffled groan.

 

“Alright,” Gavriel makes to stand. “Just checking in. I’ll leave you to recover like Fenrys is-“

 

“Wait,” Aedion croaks, lifting his head. “Do you… worry about me? All the time?”

 

Thinking, Gavriel sinks back into his seat. “Not all the time. But often.”

 

“You don’t need to,” Aedion groans, already sick of the conversation. “Look, if it makes you feel better, I’m not near as bad as I used to be.”

 

“I know,” Gavriel gives a strained smile, “but believe it or not, that’s what worries me.”

 

Aedion blinks. “What?”

 

“I worry about what past you had to suffer through alone more than I worry about you now,” Gavriel’s expression is soft, if not a little sad.

 

“I- alright, I’m too hung over for this discussion,” Aedion growls, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes. “Let me sleep. We can pick this up when my brain isn’t flooded with alcohol.”

 

Gavriel raises his brows. “You know, I would have thought you’d want to avoid a conversation about this-“

 

“Yeah, well, you’ve caught me on an emotionally available day,” Aedion waves to the door. “Apparently all anyone wants to do lately is talk. Meet me tomorrow when I can stand and we’ll talk.”

 

“I know you struggle with things such as thing, so this level of emotional maturity you’re demonstrating is-“

 

“I. Am. Hung. Over,” Aedion grounds out, shoving his face into the pillow. “Tell me how proud you are of me tomorrow.”

 

Chuckling, Gavriel quietly stands. “Don’t worry, I will.”

 

Fuck, that shouldn’t make Aedion so happy when his brain is still throbbing.

 

~~~

 

“So yesterday you said, and I quote, ‘I worry about what past you had to suffer through alone more than I worry about you now,’ elaborate on that,” Aedion sits across from Gavriel in the Lion’s office, his father pausing in paperwork to stare at his son.

 

“I… how do you remember that? You were heavily hung over.”

 

“You’d be surprised at how well I’ve become at multitasking while both drunk and hungover,” Aedion sips his water, expression dark and grim. “Now talk. Apparently, that’s what everyone wants to do lately and Fenrys was right.”

 

“About?”

 

“About listening instead of trying to ignore it. And that sometimes when people want to talk it’s for their sake as much as your own.”

 

Gavriel blinks in wonderment. “I- what did you two talk about?”

 

“Many topics,” Aedion scowls. “Now start talking before I decide this is a bad idea and leave.”

 

“There isn’t really much to say, I mean-“

 

“Oh, no, gods no,” Aedion sits up straighter. “You don’t get to strain conversations out of me every time you think I’ve had so much as a single bad day or I say one passing comment and then throw off your own worries.”

 

“Fine,” Gavriel sighs and shakes his head. “I suppose that’s fair. I meant that I worry more about what you felt when you were alone and how it affected you. I know that you’re getting better, that you have support now, but back then you didn’t. And that terrifies me.”

 

Aedion sits for a moment, thinking in silence before talking. “Would it make you feel better if I told you more about that time? About how it really was?”

 

“I honestly don’t know,” Gavriel runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into talking about a damaging time.”

 

Aedion taps his fingers against his cup, deep in thought.

 

Worry begins to enter Gavriel’s mind. “Aedion, I mean it when I say that you don’t have to speak if you don’t want to, or if these are topics of conversations you aren’t ready to approach yet.”

 

“What if,” Aedion swallows thickly, looking down at his hands, “I did tell you some things but you might not like them?”

 

Gavriel settles his pen down and braces his arms on the table, eyes flooded with soft concern. “Aedion, at this point it’s not about what I would or would not like. It’s about what you feel the need to talk about if you want to at all. I’m never going to judge you for whatever you are afraid of. Trust me when I say that even as a male of honour I have committed many unnecessary cruel acts over the last hundreds of years.” 

 

“Sometimes, when I walked off the battlefields, I didn’t get injuries aided to on purpose,” Aedion’s smile is ugly, ugly and sharp and cruel. “That first battle when I couldn’t believe I was one of the last ones standing? The one I told you about in Rosamel?”

 

Gavriel nods in recognition.

 

“I didn’t go to the healers. I only had cuts, I was fine thanks to my healing abilities, but there were times when I thought about how much easier it would be if a battle could be my last.”

 

“Aedion-“

 

“I shouldn’t have thought that alright? I had people relying on me to do stuff a child shouldn’t even have to think about. I had to try to find a purpose again amongst all the complete and utter shit going on around me. And it was _hard_. Kyllian was right when he said I broke someone’s arm the first time he met me. I pulled bullshit like that a lot. I was… I was _ugly_. I fought a lot, fucked a lot and at times only lived out of a guilty need to try to hold Terrasen together,” Aedion’s cruel smile twists into a scowl, “so you were right, it was hell back and then and I had no one to help me. But that shits already happened, so stop feeling guilty about the crap you couldn’t protect or save me from and just look after me now. Please. It’s… it’s what I wanted, back when I had no one. Back when I was watching children be collected by their parents and I was sent to the armoury to get new armour.”

 

It takes effort, for Gavriel not to clench his hands tighter, to not let his complete and utter horror show on his face. _Ugly_ … that’s the word Aedion uses to describe himself and his state of being back in that time.But what other words could he think to use? Gavriel, Gavriel to his horror can only think of words along the lines of _mess_ and _broken_. Shame curdles in his gut at the fact that he can only summon those descriptions of his son at the time, but what else is there to use?

Aedion was a child. Of course, he would be desperate for an escape from that hell.

But he held on.

And he succeeded.

And… Gavriel doesn’t need to say that. Not with the way his son is looking at him with a clenched jaw and furious, determined eyes. Aedion knows and no longer needs to hear it justified back to himself. He doesn’t need that reassurance from Gavriel on this topic, now when he fought and struggled through those personal battles to become victorious all by himself. All Aedion needs Gavriel to do now is… is listen. Not validate. Listen. Listen as Aedion explains exactly what Gavriel and others have forced out of him.

 

So Gavriel stands the same time Aedion does, walks around the desk and collects his son in his arms. “Of course you would have wanted to leave that hell.”

 

Aedion shudders against him in relief. “You’re not going to become mad? Or frightened?”

 

“Do you ever think of doing those things now?”

 

“No. Not now. Not when I have things back.”

 

Gavriel pulls back, his hands still firmly placed on Aedion’s shoulders. “Then no, I’m not frightened. I am horrified that you ever thought I would be mad at you for such things.”

 

“You tend to worry.”

 

“Aedion, look at our lives. How can I not?” Gavriel grins, his entire body beginning to relax.

 

“Fair enough,” Aedion sighs. “I’m going back to bed.”

 

“I thought you rested enough?”

 

“I’m emotionally exhausted,” Aedion growls, glaring. “I deserve more sleep. Tell no one to disturb me.”

 

“Fenrys is looking for you.”

 

“Tell him I’m dead.”

 

~~~

 

“Evangeline is seeing someone.”

 

Aedion’s body stiffens as Lysandra continues to brush her hair, sitting on the edge of the bed. Slowly, Aedion rolls onto his back then sits up, blinking at once in both confusion and horror.

 

“I…” Aedion collects his thoughts. “This cannot be happening today.”

 

“Technically,” Lysandra fights a smile, “it’s evening. And I don’t see why this is such a travesty.”

 

“Of course you don’t,” Aedion groans, collapsing back again. “What happens when whoever it is breaks her heart?”

 

“Aedion,” Lysandra snorts a small laugh, placing down her brush, “I’m fairly certain we won’t need to worry about that. Evangeline can take care of herself.”

 

“I know she can,” Aedion groans, covering his face, “but that doesn’t change the horror of the situation.”

 

“You’ve been awfully dramatic lately.”

 

“It’s surprisingly freeing.”

  
“I think I might give it a go tomorrow,” Lysandra lies beside him, placing one hand on his chest. “For tonight…”

 

“Another cat nap?” Aedion smirks. “Alright, just try not to shift in your sleep again. You’re heavy in snow leopard form.”

 

It earns him a whack on the chest.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took longer and is so much shorter you guys! Holidays and school have been busy. Also? SIX THOUSAND HITS? WHERE THE HELL HAS THIS FANDOM BEEN HIDING? 
> 
> Anyway, as always requests not found in this chapter have been listed for the next. And remember that I adore comments/kudos/requests!


	20. Brick, Brack, Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evangeline entered some interesting situations and there's a bit of a dark back story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!! : DEPRESSION AND TALKING ABOUT PAST SUICIDE ATTEMPT
> 
> Please, if you think that any such content may trigger you in even the smallest way then please consider it before you read this and some of my darker chapters and works on Tumblr! The last thing I want is for my work to negatively affect people!

22.

 

 

“What’s the person’s name?” Aelin scowls.

 

“No idea.”

 

“What gender?”

 

“Unclear.”

 

“Age?”

 

“Same as Evangeline, thank god,” Aedion sighs.

 

The queen links her hands and braces her elbows on her desk, eyes narrowed on concentration. The golden morning light trickles into her office, alighting both her and Aedion in a warm glow that contrasts with Aedion’s tired appearance and Aelin’s glare of concentration.

 

“Have we met them?”

 

“Possibly?”

 

Slamming her hands down on the table, Aelin pushes back in her seat. “Do you know anything?”

 

Throwing his hands up Aedion snorts. “Nothing. Evangeline hasn’t told Lysandra or I anything.”

 

“Have you asked her?” Aelin pushes, raising a brow suggestively. “Really asked her?”

 

“No, Aelin,” Aedion scoffs, appalled. “We haven’t done that and neither are you. Gods.”

 

“Have you asked Gavriel?” Aelin settles back into her chair, eyes deep with thought.

 

“No.”

 

Those eyes clear. “No?”

 

“No?” Aedion repeats, confused at her repetition. “I haven’t asked him.”

 

“Evangeline might have told him!” Aelin scowls. “He’s her third favourite!”

 

“Well I- wait, third?” Aedion pauses. “What do you mean by third?”

 

“Lysandra, then I and then Gavriel,” Aelin frowns, blinking. “Why?”

 

“Has Evangeline told you this herself?” Aedion fights down a pang of jealousy. “Has she come to you and told you this?”

 

“No, but I can tell,” Aelin smirks, knowing exactly what the statement has done to her cousin.

 

“You,” Aedion stands, “are a pain.”

 

“It’s my best quality.”

 

~~~

  
“Evangeline, sweetheart?” Aedion pokes his head into her room. “I was wondering-“

 

“I’m not dating anyone,” Evangeline interrupts, eyes focused on her book as she lays on her bed. “You can all stop whispering about it.”

 

“Ah,” Aedion pauses. “A girl or a boy? Or both or neither?”

 

This time she hesitates, slowly closing the book. “I don’t know. I’m… I’m trying to work this stuff out. Is that weird? I feel like I should already know what I want.”

 

A surprised laugh bursts from Aedion, the male moving to sit at the edge of the bed. “Sweetheart, trust me when I say that you are not the only person at your age struggling with this kind of stuff.”

 

“Did you?” Evangeline bites her lip.

 

Aedion snorts. “Honey, I was in a war camp. I was surrounded by other males. I fought with them in the mud. I slept with them in the tents. I watched them f-“

 

“Aedion! Ew!”

 

“I watched them fight!” Aedion chokes. “Fight! What did you think I was going to say?”

 

Evangeline glares at his grin. “You know what. It’s just… I don’t like how confusing this all is.”

 

“Yeah,” Aedion ruffles her hair, “I know. Trust me when I say that I will never care as long as you’re happy.”

 

“Thank you, Aedion.”

 

“No problem,” the general grins, stepping outside and closing the door.

 

“So-“

 

“Gods!” Aedion jumps back, staring at Gavriel. “How long have you been there?”

 

“I just walked up to you,” the Lion raises a brow. “You need to work on your reflexes.”

 

“Noted,” Aedion resists the urge to growl at his father’s small smile. “Is there a reason for this strange stalking?”

 

“I came to talk to Evangeline,” Gavriel starts strolling down the hall with Aedion, “but now it seems you beat me to it.”

 

“That I did,” Aedion smirks. “You also curious about this secret admirer?”

 

“Everyone is,” Gavriel admits a little uncomfortably. “If they hurt Evangeline then they’ll have a large amount of fae hunting them down.”

 

“Poor thing,” Aedion grins. “Too bad we’ll have fun if it comes to that.”

 

Gavriel shakes his head in amusement. “I’m sure you would. You handled that conversation well.”

 

“I just said what I wished someone someone would say to me,” Aedion shrugs.

 

“Do you wish someone had explained such things to you?” Gavriel asks, tapping his finger against his thigh.

 

Aedion hesitates momentarily, glancing at his father. “Don’t turn this into an excuse to have one of your discussion.”

 

“And here I thought you liked them,” Gavriel raises his brows. “But really. I know that those years of your life would have been difficult.”

 

“I- they was,” Aedion grips his arm, his hand slowly sliding down to his wrist. “But not just because of my preferences. I wasn’t in the best mindset to deal with anything back then.”

 

Something whines and clenches in Gavriel’s chest, shaking its head at the words as if to deny them. As if to shake away how Aedion’s hands are clenched at his sides, a sure sign that the words carry more weight than his son is leading him to believe.

 

“Evangeline will never have to go through that,” Gavriel says the words with a certainty that he knows is true.

 

Something softens in Aedion’s eyes and he nods. “I hope she is treated right by whoever she is spending time with.”

 

Gavriel nods in agreement. “So, back to your time at the war camps-“

 

“Gods,” Aedion rolls his eyes, walking away. “Let that stuff go!”

 

“You know very well that I can’t!”

 

~~~

 

“Just tell me,” Gavriel slides into the seat next to Aedion at lunch. “Who was your commanding officer? Are they still alive?”

 

Kyllian looks up at Aedion’s groan. “What’s this?”

 

“Gavriel wants to hunt down and interrogate everyone who has ever been in charge of me,” Aedion grumbles, picking at the food on his plate.

 

“General Mikel was the main one,” Kyllian goes back to his food, bored. “You may want to check up on Lieutenant Grackle.”

 

“Kyllian,” Aedion growls.

 

“Don’t you growl at me,” the man mutters, glaring back. “Gavriel’s in charge of me now.”

 

Aedion faces his father with an incredulous expression. The Lion cooly gazes back.

 

“Stop stealing my men.”

 

“Give me some details and I’ll let him go.”

 

“What’s happening?” Lysandra sits beside Aedion. “Who’s holding who captive?”

 

“Gavriel is holding Kyllian captive,” Aedion scowls, gesturing to the males in question. “He’s using him to gain information on my past.”

 

“Two words,” Kyllian sighs, “anger issues. So much anger in such a small body, but I suppose he grew into it.”

 

“Shut up, Kyllian.”

 

“Well, you did.”

 

“The first person you had close interactions with,” Gavriel prompts, prodding Aedion’s arm gently. “Just anything.”

 

Aedion sighs through his nose. “I’ve given you more than I’ve given most people.”

 

“Did they at least take you out on a date?”

 

“It was the war camps! The closest you came to dating there was hunting together!”

 

“Then tell me about the first time you went hunting with someone!”

 

“I’m leaving!” Aedion announces, setting his plate aside. “Go quiz Aelin about her first time hunting with someone!”

 

Gavriel frowns. “I already have. It was with a young male from the guild when she was fifteen. They snuck out to a bar.”

 

“You never turn off, do you?” Aedion breathes quietly, walking away. “Not even with the damn queen.”

 

“You can’t avoid this conversation forever, Aedion,” Gavriel calls out, standing to follow his son.

 

Rowan frowns at Aelin as the two males leave. “Is that a true story?”

 

“Someone needs to satisfy his paternal needs since Aedion tries to be stubborn about it half the time.” Aelin shrugs, sipping at her wine.

 

Rowan raises a brow. “So it’s not true?”

 

“I never said that,” the queen flashes a smirk.

 

~~~

 

They stand in the training rings, Aedion placing away spears as Gavriel watches him, his arms crossed.

 

“Well, who was your first ‘hunt’?” Aedion growls the last word as venomously as he can, the back of his neck tingling at the way Gavriel watches him. "If you're so stuck on the subject."

 

“Ah, of course,” Gavriel’s voice lightens as though he’s come to some realisation. “That’s fair.”

 

Aedion pauses, turning back to his father. “What? No, I was-“

 

“Her name was Lavendile, I met her when I was a young male in the town I was raised in. I was sixteen. It was the summer and we-“

 

“Alright!” Aedion growls, raising his hands. “I don’t really want to know!”

 

Gavriel raises a brow. “Oh, really? I had no idea at all that it was a part of your tactic to avoid the conversation.”

 

“Sarcasm isn’t a good look on you.”

 

“Neither is purple, apparently,” Gavriel deadpans.

 

“I apologised for that! But in my defence, it was a horrible shirt!” Aedion throws his hands up. “Fine, the truth? The first person I was interested in was a laundresses daughter who I saw around the castle when I was eleven. She was kind to me.”

 

“And when you first realised you held an interest in males?”

 

Aedion glares, closing the door to the weaponry. “In the war camps. As I said, it was a confusing time.”

 

“Was it because of a particular male?” Gavriel follows Aedion from the room.

 

Aedion halts and turns. “Why is this so important to you? We’ve started talking but it’s as if you just can’t let this go!”

 

His father doesn’t stop, following after him persistently. “Because I can’t.”

 

“You’re never this questioning when it comes to females,” Aedion snaps.

 

“Because it’s different,” Gavriel very near growls.

 

Something flashes in Aedion’s eyes and he narrows them. “Different. So you want to know who the first male I was interested in was because it’s different to me being interested in a female?”

 

The Lion doesn’t move. Gavriel simply crosses his arms once again, gold eyes hard and expectant. Aedion analysis of his father's stance before sighing.

 

“Some other male from the camps,” Aedion turns away. “I don’t know. Nothing at that point in time ever seemed to matter. No one back then mattered.”

 

“I’m sorry, Aedion,” Gavriel fills the silence.

 

The wolf snorts. “For what? You didn’t even know I existed.”

 

“I’m sorry you were deprived of first times that meant something,” Gavriel places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m sorry things got to a point where others and yourself meant nothing to you.”

 

He sees something flicker in his son’s eyes, feels Aedion’s muscles tense under his hands momentarily before relaxing once again.

 

“Enough of this old man- male,” Aedion corrects himself, his smirk coming back into place. “I’m going to go check on Evangeline.”

 

“I’ll come,” Gavriel nods. “We were going to go into town to look at the craft stores at the markets.”

 

“You two and your crafts,” Aedion grins, making his way down the hallway. “At least allow me five minutes with her before you steal her away.”

 

“No promises,” Gavriel knocks on the door. “I’ve become rather attached. Don’t be surprised if I take her camping again.”

 

“Dear gods, not camping,” Aedion mutters under his breath. “You know how well that’s gone for us.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel sighs, knocking once again. “Evangeline? Are you in?”

 

“She may still be having dinner,” Aedion scratches the back of his head, yawning. “Or reading. She doesn’t need to go to bed at seven anymore.”

 

“You should go to bed earlier.”

 

“Gods, enough! I’m twenty-four!”

“You still need sleep!”

 

~~~

 

Aedion yawns. A gentle breeze drifts in from the window, the trees creating a gentle lullaby thanks to the wind. The sun dapples across Aedion’s bare body, tan skin set alight as he slowly sighs. It’s peaceful, for once, to wake up slowly. Gently. Without disturbing sounds in the background and people calling him to action.

So he rolls his shoulders, breathing in deeply once again to stretch the inside of his chest and enjoy the feel of the sheets against his skin. Something gives a pleasing growl in his mind, secretly pleased at the fact that he knows he has slept in and-

 

“Aedion!”

 

-Lysandra grips his shoulders and shakes. His eyes flash open and he sits up, immediately palming a knife in his hand.

 

(If Lysandra can shift into a form with claws and fangs then he can damn well have weapons stored around the bed is he wishes).

 

“Evangeline is missing,” Lysandra pants, green eyes ablaze with fury. “We’re hunting. Now.”

 

That’s all it takes for weapons to enter his hands and gear to strap onto his body. Lysandra herself prowls down the halls, movements more feral than anything as Aedion rages behind her. They waste no time in opening the door to Evangeline's room, striding inside and Lysandra shoving Aedion towards a forced open window and a note pinned to the wall.

 

“We,” Lysandra trembles with her fury, “are going to hunt them down.”

 

“And skin them alive,” Aedion growls agreement, crushing the note in his hand. “Have you alerted the others?”

 

“They’re hunting as we speak,” Lysandra’s lips curl into a dark smile. “I thought I should wake you to join me.”

 

“I would have been hurt if you didn’t,” the wolf gives a wicked smirk. “I trust that Aelin is furious?”

 

“Oh,” Lysandra breaths, her teeth already fangs, “she is raging like a bonfire.”

 

The previous cadre members, including Rowan, hunt in their animal forms. They prowl across the ground and soar above the sky. Aelin joins Renn in interrogation, both of them closely questioning anyone that could have heard, seen or participated in Evangeline’s disappearance. Gavriel for his part joins Lysandra and Aedion. The shifter and Lion creep through the garden in their preferred animal's forms, the ghost leopard and lion baring their teeth at anything that moves. Aedion follows behind them, a dark, chuckling whirlwind of aggression and war as he follows the tracks left by the assailants.

 

“They,” Aedion flips his sword in his hand, “are in the woods. Their tracks lead there.”

 

Both Lysandra and Gavriel growl. The Lion releases a roar, the message somehow being heard by each fae male as multiple animals begin to either run or soar their way towards the woods. Lysandra growls at Gavriel. The message she sends across is clear.

 

‘They are mine,’ Lysandra growl clearly states. ‘Mine.’

 

The Lion bows his head once and runs into the woods. A ghost leopard and general follow. It doesn’t take long for them all to pick up on Evangeline’s scent, to hear her muffled yells with their keen hearing.

And they feel a swell of pride at the yell of a man in pain. They were fools to ever think she wouldn’t fight back.

 

“Hello,” Aedion smiles at the men gathered in a circle, the cadre members and Lysandra surrounding them in animal forms. “If I were you, I’d run.”

 

And they do. He doesn’t bother following them, not when every single beast in the clearing runs or flies after them, splitting up to follow different men. Evangeline, bless her soul, is standing, hands tied behind her back and hair messed but teeth gritting the gag in her mouth and eyes just as furious as Lysandra’s. It doesn’t stop Aedion from immediately moving towards her, removing the gag and untying her hands. The bruise blooming underneath her left eye sends a furious growl through Aedion’s gut and up through his throat. Evangeline simply juts her chin out, a brilliant pride lighting in her citrine eyes.

 

“I punched one of them in the jaw,” Evangeline smiles brightly, another, smaller bruise on the corner of her lip, “and bit another.”

 

And damn if Aedion can’t help but smile widely at that. “That’s my girl.”

 

Somewhere, deeper amongst the trees, screams call out amongst the howls and calls of the fae.

 

~~~

 

“An eighteen-year-old!” Aedion scowls, gently dabbing a gash on Evangeline’s arm. “Eighteen!”

 

“Kyllian is two years older than you!” Evangeline scowls. “And she lied and said she was sixteen!”

 

“That’s still too old,” Aedion mutters, smoothing a bandaid.

 

“You sound like Gavriel,” Evangeline scoffs, urging a snicker from both Aelin and Lysandra.

 

“I am _not_ ,” Aedion hisses, leaning forward on her bed. “He still questions Kyllian and all my past relationships. I’m just nagging about the psycho that kidnapped you!”

 

Gavriel screws his brows from where he sits in one of Evangeline’s chairs. “I’m beginning to feel insulted. I’m just a male trying to look out for his kin.”

 

“You still have blood on your hand,” Aedion grumbles, hiding his smile as Gavriel quickly wipes his palm against his thigh. “And you, young lady, did a magnificent job breaking that man’s cheekbone.”

 

“I did?” Evangeline beams. “I heard the crack and then they tied my hands. They thought it’d be easy.”

 

“You did wonderful, darling,” Lysandra says, perching on the edge of the bed beside the girl. “Would you like me to get you anything? Do anything?”

 

“Could I have some dinner?” Evangeline lights up. “They took me before I could eat.”

 

Aelin bursts out laughing. “Oh, just like Aedion and Lysandra all right.”

 

“I’ll get it,” Aedion stands, making his way to the door. “The usual, sweetheart?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

“I’ll throw in an apple crumble,” Aedion winks over his shoulder before closing the door.

 

Gavriel frowns at the tension in Aedion’s shoulders, at the way that, thanks to where he’s sitting, he was apple to see Aedion’s face fall as he turned away. It takes no prompting for Gavriel to stand, walking over to place a kiss on the crown of Evangeline’s head.

 

“I’ll go help with the crumble,” Gavriel suggests, smiling. “Just a bit.”

 

He ducks out of the room, closing the door behind him. He makes it down an entire level and around a few corners, tracking Aedion’s scent to another abandoned staircase. He makes it half way down and he finds Aedion sitting on the steps, head in hands and shoulders heaving. Gavriel drops down beside him, not hesitating to wrap an arm around his son’s shoulders. Releasing a strangled sound, Aedion tilts his body into Gavriel’s grip, his breath fast and erratic as it surges through his body.

 

“I know,” Gavriel sighs, closing his own eyes. “It’s been… a long day.”

 

“I- she- they could have-“

 

“But they didn’t,” Gavriel keeps his voice firm. “You were strong for her, Aedion, and now she’s safe.”

 

Another warped noise escapes Aedion, his heaving breaths continuing as his head grows light. It takes Gavriel rubbing the pattern to breath on his back for him to calm down. It takes at least a minute, yet what feels like an hour, for the room to steady and the ache within his skull to become bearable.

 

“She could have died,” Aedion finally says, voice weak. “And I was _asleep_. They got her out to the middle of the woods.”

 

“So what?” Gavriel keeps his voice at a soothing tone. “You’ll camp outside her door?”

 

“Maybe,” Aedion growls, pressing his palms into his eyes.

 

“Maybe,” Gavriel nods and gives a small smile, hand still on Aedion’s back. “You know she was never in any real danger, Aedion. We found her.”

 

“I know,” Aedion bites out, sucking in another deep breath. “I know. I just- it’s been so long since I’ve had to worry about her or about anyone or anything bad happening and-“

 

“Breath,” Gavriel murmurs as a reminder. “Remember to breath. Evangeline is fine. She’s sitting in her room, rightfully proud of herself and waiting for apple crumble.”

 

Aedion snorts a laugh, hands trembling. “Right. She is. It’s just…”

 

“I know,” Gavriel sighs. “It’s a shock. Would you like to go back to your room? I can say you were called away for business.”

 

He sees the hesitation in Aedion’s eyes, the flicker of worry. What concerns him most is the way that determination bleeds away to show exhaustion as Aedion nods his head. He watches his son depart down the staircase, shoulders curved inward and hand loose by his sides in defeat.

Lysandra gives Gavriel a questioning look when he returns without Aedion. The Lion simply gives her a small shake of the head, mouthing ‘bedroom’ to tell her of his location. Evangeline for her part is fully delighted by the apple crumble, leaning against Gavriel’s side as she devours the dessert and describes her adventure.

And Gavriel may have added extra ice cream to the dish. And gave her enough for three people.

She deserves it! He knows when a warrior should be granted a reward, and gods be damned, that girl is going to get one!  
Soon Gavriel is the only one left with Evangeline, the others returning to their duties and Lysandra no doubt going to check on Aedion. He has no qualms about being left with the girl, with the two of them sitting on her bed as she admits to him how scared she truly was. If anything, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight is a joy that Gavriel will likely never forget.

 

“I just… I didn’t know what would happen,” Evangeline mumbles, still in Gavriel’s arms.

 

“I know,” the Lion nods. “Situations such as that are never pleasant. It rattled everybody, you are not alone in this.”

 

He simply strokes her hair for a few more moments, his fae hearing finding comfort in her healthy, young heartbeat.

 

“Is Aedion alright?”

 

“He’s fine,” Gavriel nods. “He’s just tired from the day’s activities.”

 

Evangeline collects her thoughts for a moment before speaking. “I know everyone gets sad sometimes. That deep kind fo sad that they all look as though they are drowning in. I’ve seen people succumb to it. Aedion would never do that, would he?”

 

Gavriel starts, at once horrified and shocked by the very idea as fear shoots through his core. “No, sweetheart, no. There are days that are harder than others, yes, and some things are hard to forget. Yet that does not mean that Aedion, or any of us, are at a point where we would consider such a thing.”

 

“I know,” Evangeline squeezes her eyes shut. “I just don’t want to lose anyone else.”

 

Gavriel kisses the top of her head, suddenly exhausted. “I know, darling. I know.”

 

~~~

“Have you talked to her?” Gavriel sits besides Aedion on the bench within the gardens, Fleetfoot frolicking around them.

 

“I have,” Aedion nods. “Thank you, for telling me what she said. What she was concerned with.”

 

“It’s fine,” Gavriel shakes his head. “She should know that you would never consider such a thing.”

 

He expects some kind of response, yet the silence that he is met with is as frozen as Aedion’s frame. His son stares back at him, those amazing eyes analysing him as if trying to draw out some hidden truth. The way Gavriel is unable to read them makes something uncomfortable slither up his spine.

 

“Aedion?” Gavriel can barely hear his own voice.

 

“I was fifteen. They took me to the river where Aelin drowned. If a healer that liked me hadn’t found me I may have bled out completely. I cursed her.”

 

It’s a punch to the gut. A sudden pain that empties Gavriel’s head of all thoughts until nothing but an isolating quiet takes a hold of him. He doesn’t notice the liquid trailing down his face, unable to look away from the many scars on Aedion’s arm, wondering which one was not inflicted by a foreign hand. Aedion for his part says nothing, simply sits and waits.

 

Gavriel sucks in a large breath and presses a hand to his eyes. “Gods above. Gods above, fifteen. And… gods above.”

 

Aedion’s voice is hoarse. “It was a time where I did not feel. But being taken to that river, shown the broken bridge…”

 

It is no surprise to Gavriel that something such as that is what would have chipped away at some final piece in Aedion. “Why did you never tell me?”

 

“It’s not exactly a light meal conversation,” Aedion snorts, finally looking away. “It never seemed important.”

 

“Does Evangeline-“

 

“No, gods, no. I would never tell her. Not when she already has such a fear,” Aedion shakes his head, eyes darkening. “She shouldn’t worry about such a thing, shouldn’t worry about the adults around her in such a way. It is unfair to a child to have to hold that kind of weight.”

 

“Have you ever…” Gavriel needs to pause to clear his throat, heart thudding painfully. “Have you ever thought of doing it again?”

 

“There was a time I had an infected wound but never told anybody,” Aedion shrugs half-heartedly. “But besides that, no, no outright attempts. I had too much of a goal afterwards. When I was younger I believed there was nothing. Then revenge became an option. Rage is a surprisingly good motivator.”

 

“Right,” Gavriel swallows thickly, trying to rein in his emotions. “I- Aedion, you that if you ever, that if things-“

 

“I know,” Aedion turns back to his father. “But I don’t want to go. Not now. Not when I have so many things to do and to see. I’ve struggled too much to see this reality to leave it.”

 

Gavriel nods, sending a silent prayer to the gods. They watch the once-green leave’s that have turned to crisp autumn jewels slowly drop to the ground, swaying in the breeze. Gavriel relishes in Aedion’s presence besides him, breathing in the mountain air.

Such fear. Such a horrible, horrible fear. It would be the saddest thing for someone you love to die before you ever gain the chance to meet. To lose that possibility.

And yet they came so close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short and took so long! My mental health around exam time always degrades a little bit, and with it comes a huge amount of writer's block. As always comments, kudos and requests are absolutely loved!

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is also pitterpatterpot, so feel free to check it out.


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